At the End of All Things
by VanillaLatte
Summary: As the Exile struggles to understand her connection to the Force and embarks on a mission to join Revan, her companions make their own decisions on where the future will take them. KotOR II & I. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Knights of the Old Republic and Knights of the Old Republic are the property of LucasArts and BioWare and Obsidian respectively. Only any original characters that might pop up are mine, all who appear in the Star Wars Universe are not, nor do I claim them to be. I'm not making a dime off of this, so please don't sue...

This is my first stab at the KotOR fandom and I admit to being a little rusty at fic-writing as a whole. :) It's been a while. But the only way to get better is to do it, right? I fully welcome and appreciate constructive criticism. If you like, please let me know. Keeps the muses moving. If you don't like, also let me know. If this isn't worth continuing, I'll work on a term paper instead. :) Thanks.

* * *

Bao-Dur struggled to maintain repulsor power as the _Ebon Hawk_ began slipping from its makeshift moors on the surface of Malachor V. The shriek of rock against metal drowned out his voice as he shouted through his comlink to the cockpit.

"Atton, that's all I can give you!" he ground out, hanging onto the hyperdrive housing in the engine room as the ship began to lurch sickeningly to the side. Then, the shrieking stopped and the ship seemed to go silent and weightless in a surreally infinite moment before loose boulders began raining against the top of the _Hawk_, seeming to push it down faster.

The engine groaned and Bao-Dur's stomach dropped as he felt the repulsors kick in, slowing their descent. He only wished they were slowing faster. The _Ebon Hawk_ began to level out, the artificial gravity resetting itself allowing the Zabrak engineer to get his footing again. He shrugged off his brief wave of vertigo before hastily making his way to the cockpit. T3-M4, ever diligent in his repair duties, was already moving past him and into the engine room he was exiting. He wasn't prepared for the sting of grief he felt at the thought of the droid. Made him think of his little Remote, probably already crushed beneath the collapsing weight of the doomed planet.

Bao-Dur wove his way through the corridors and through the main hold to the bridge, cursing with every swerve of the ship. He was secretly very glad that it was Atton piloting and not him. The poor kid was probably sweating blaster bolts.

He stumbled onto the bridge to a scene he hardly expected. Instead of flying by the seat of his pants, Atton was poised in the pilot's seat, looking entirely focused. The Disciple looked about the same, having claimed the copilot's seat, with Mira hanging on to his seatback. All three were completely silent, eyes glued to the barren landscape outside.

"Is it ready?" Atton asked. Bao-Dur nodded before finding his voice.

"Just waiting for the signal. But I still think this is a mistake."

"What choice do we have?" Interjected the Disciple.

"I know," Bao-Dur replied grimly as Visas entered the now crowded cockpit.

"Something has happened," Visas noted softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the engines. The pelting of rocks on the hull had slowed as the tremor that loosed the ship stopped altogether. Atton slowed the Hawk and settled on hovering for the moment in a larger clearing in the crevasse.

"I felt it, too. Like a yell and a whisper all at once," said Mira, her eyes closing. Bao-Dur, having grown used to the overall Jedi-ness of his companions was unfazed by the declarations and simply waited for elaboration.

"A wound made and healed…" added the Disciple.

Atton shook his head. "You know, all you guys had to say was 'You know Sleeps-With-Vibroblades? We think he's dead' and left it at that." Bao-Dur quirked a half grin.

"Sleeps-With-Vibroblades?" The Disciple asked. Mira masked a smile. Obviously something happened somewhere along the way that only Atton and Mira of their group seemed to get. Probably on Korriban or something…

"Darth Sion," added Visas. "He is dead."

"Better him than her," Mira stated.

The Disciple nodded and gazed out the window at the chasm that held them. "Somehow I doubt he will have been her greatest challenge today."

* * *

"There is no dishonor in any of these choices," Kreia said. The Exile examined her mentor—former mentor, manipulator, betrayer—critically. Tien's mind raced as she weighed her options, but in her heart, past the hurt and confusion, past the latent admiration and trust that she and Kreia had somehow built along the way, she knew that whatever she said now really didn't matter. Not in any way that would affect anyone but herself and the woman before her in the last moments of their lives.

Malachor V was dying. Again. And would take its occupants with it shortly. She wondered idly if what Kreia had told her of the future had been the truth or placating words. Tien closed her eyes and sighed. No… her teacher had always been brutally honest, never weakened by charity, fiscal or otherwise. The Exile took some measure of comfort in that—she knew now that at least she wouldn't bring her friends down with her here.

"Why did you not follow her?" She asked finally. Kreia regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before replying.

"If she had asked, would I have gone? I do not know. Perhaps you will go and fight with her at the end of all things, but I stayed behind to show others the way."

"And what is the way?"

"Only Revan knows where the fight would lead her. But I do know this: She will need allies with her, Jedi to help her fight the true Sith at the edge of the galaxy."

Tien nodded, having already decided that if this had been a survivable situation, that she would follow Revan, as she had a decade earlier, though now older, wiser, and with far more noble reasons. But Bao-Dur had helped the Republic forces destroy this planet once, and she knew he was poised to do it again. She had known, at least in part, that this had been a suicide mission, no matter what hope her friends might have held.

"Rest now, Kreia," The Exile whispered as her teacher fell to her knees.

Tien pulled her comlink from one of the folds of her robes. "Okay, little droid. Do your stuff."

Within a few seconds, the cavernous core of the Trayus Academy began to crumble around her.

* * *

"There," said Visas, pointing out the front window to an opening in the rock. Atton saw it and immediately accelerated upwards, silently praying for the _Hawk_ to hold together for just a few more minutes. He could feel her… almost hear her resignation as the flicker in the Force he knew as Kreia blinked, then blew out altogether.

"Up. Atton, go up! Bao-Dur… somebody, go open the hatch." Mira turned herself around and followed her own suggestion, grabbing Bao-Dur by the shoulder on the way. She heard the Disciple spin out of the copilot's chair to join them.

Atton carefully navigated the chasm, rising through the gap left by pieces of the planet literally falling away. Then he saw her standing on a crumbling platform as the _Ebon Hawk_ rose from the depths of the dying planet. Through the front windows, he saw the surprise on her face and time seemed to stop as he stared at her and she stared back. Like she was actually deciding whether to stay or go. Atton narrowed his eyes at her and tilted his head in question. She looked away from him and started running for the Hawk's main hatch. He hoped it was still functioning—after all the damage they'd taken, he was amazed the ship was still flying at all. He guessed they'd see how operational the environmental systems were when they broke from the atmosphere…

"We've got her. Get us out of here!" Bao-Dur's voice came over the comm system and Atton didn't hesitate. As Visas climbed into the co-pilot's seat and strapped herself in, Atton pulled up as hard as he could and sighed with relief as the ship began climbing through the atmosphere.

* * *

Atton watched the Exile and the Disciple from the threshold of the dormitory, silently leaning against the side of the corridor. They were seated on the floor where Kreia would meditate. The Disciple looked up and saw him, raising his eyebrow and offering Atton a small smile. Atton uncrossed his arms and smiled back, pushing off the wall as the Disciple rose from the floor. Despite his early hostility toward the other man, Atton had to admit that his respect for the Jedi had grown during their travels. They'd cultivated a certain understanding between them, he supposed.

Tien opened her eyes at her companion's movement. The Disciple looked down at her and gripped her shoulder lightly before making his way out of the room. As he passed Atton, he stopped. "She needs us," he said in a low voice. "Don't let her make you think otherwise." Atton looked at him, confused, but the historian just smiled at him again in that perplexing and infuriating way. Atton chose to ignore it—this time—and instead walked into the room, joining Tien on the floor.

"So…" he said, "I didn't know where you wanted to go, so I just set a course for Telos… I mean, we don't actually have to dock or anything, but… maybe we can put in for repairs there."

"That's fine, Atton. Thank you."

Atton winced at her dead tone. She'd closed her eyes again, obviously trying to ignore him so he'd go away. The Disciple's words to him were starting to make a little more sense. He sighed and figured that if she wasn't going to talk, he may as well.

"Well," he exhaled heavily. "You're alive."

He glanced over at his friend, only to find her still actively trying to make him think she wasn't listening. Undeterred, he continued. "I guess that bond thing between you and Kreia wasn't as strong as you thought… I mean, she's dead and you're not. Wonder why that is?"

She opened one eye and glanced quickly at him before closing it again and resuming her "meditation."

_Time to bring out the big guns_, Atton thought. _Feelings_. "I know… you probably already had this heart-to-heart with the Disciple." He sighed. "Look, I'm not any good at all this spiritual stuff. We both know that. But I am learning… thanks to you, I really _am_ learning, Tien. And I know when there's something wrong. I'm not a mind reader… well, not yet, anyway…"

Tien snorted. Atton smiled. "So what do you think?" he asked.

Tien sighed, opening her eyes and turning to face him. "I think you were right all along, Atton. She was manipulating me… us… from the beginning."

"What does the Disciple think happened? And what the hell is his _name_ anyway?" Tien let out a staccato chortle at that.

"I don't know. On either question. We didn't talk about it. We were just meditating. Kreia and I _did_ definitely have a… bond. I felt her death… very, very strongly. He was helping me to center myself."

"Ah."

Tien grinned, but said nothing, enjoying a moment of comfortable silence.

"I never told you what happened in that tomb on Duxn," Atton said, finally.

"Just that you learned something you already knew."

"The past is a funny thing. You live your life one way, believe one thing and fight against another… then one day, something happens and… the past isn't just… the _past_ anymore. It's a whole different life… belonging to someone you don't even know. I knew that the day I left the Sith… but I _learned_ it in that tomb."

"I'm intrigued. What exactly happened? You came out… different," Tien asked.

"The first thing was an accident, really. I wandered to this… patch. Of anger, hatred, pain… so loud and strong that it felt alive… like a disease with a will and it wanted to consume everything that touched it. And I wasn't afraid. I faced it, Tien, and came out stronger for it."

"A concentration of Dark Side energy. A manifestation of corruption… and difficult to resist."

Atton nodded and continued. "Then in the main chamber… that great disturbance that Kreia felt… it was a Sith Lord and some Dark Jedi performing some kind of ritual. I don't know what it was or what it did… but the Dark Lord… he confronted us. He must have felt the Force in me too, because he actually started soliciting the glory and grandeur of the dark side."

"I take it you would have none of _that_," Tien mused. Atton smiled. Tien had shifted her position from her meditation pose entirely, having propped her elbow on her knee and holding her chin in her open palm, rapt.

"Of course not. In fact, I started soliciting the peace and power of the light side." Atton's face suddenly grew more serious. "And I really meant it, too. There was a time… most of my life, in fact, where I wouldn't have cared for a second, wouldn't have given a second thought to the idea of salvation of souls. But in that tomb, I truly tried to convince that Sith that he could be saved. And I truly wanted to save him. I really wasn't just saying the words… I _believed_ them. I knew how the dark side really felt, and I can honestly say that I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. You know, I don't think I've ever said that and actually meant it before. Of course, he didn't really want to listen…"

"One cannot be saved unless, deep inside, one really _wants_ to be saved. It's so important that you tried, Atton."

Atton nodded in understanding and sighed, taking a moment to compose his thoughts. Tien smiled to herself, a sense of peace washing over her at hearing Atton's confession. She'd always had faith in him and it helped to know he finally had that same faith in himself.

"You're going to take off and follow Revan, aren't you?"

Tien choked. "I'm sorry?" she gasped. Atton looked at her closely, watching her face for her now-familiar tells. Her eyes darted quickly away from his. She knew exactly what he was talking about. And he was right… and she hadn't been planning on mentioning her plans to anyone.

"The Disciple and I don't see eye to eye on very much, but he's got a point," he said.

"About what, pray tell?" Tien replied, not even trying to mask the indignant tone of her voice.

"You need us. He warned me that you might try and convince me that you don't. I figured I'd beat you to the punch. We are right, though, aren't we? You're planning on leaving… just like she left them. Left him."

"Yes."

"And that's it? That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Atton? That I want you there, that I want to stay with you, with you and the Disciple, Mira and Visas and T3 and Bao-Dur? Or maybe you want me to say that I'm walking away? That I've done my part and I won't do anything more now but hide? I can't do that, Atton." Tien sighed. "Not after we've come so far."

"I would never ask you to walk away. I don't think you're even capable of that anymore. But I don't understand why you feel you have to go alone."

"I just do, Atton. I won't put you at that kind of risk. You all… you have too much to live for, and I won't be responsible for taking that away from you." Tien paused. "I understand now one of Kreia's lessons that I resisted… Every action has consequences… for other people. Impacting one life impacts the lives of everyone that life has ever touched, on into eternity. Like a great tree, branching out in every direction."

"You're starting to sound suspiciously like that old witch…"

Tien shook her head. "I've never wanted to do anything but help people… that's why I went to fight in the Mandalorian Wars, that's why I accepted my exile, why we fought for Khoonda and Queen Talia… but for all that good intention, what was the result? Hurt, millions of lost lives, the destruction of whole planets, Malachor V, Darth Traya, Atris' fall, Darth Nihilus and his hunger, the death of Katarr… The good doesn't outweigh the bad—it doesn't even come close. So perhaps it would be best if my decisions affected no one but myself from now on. As much as I hate to admit it, Kreia was right."

"I've never known you to second guess yourself, Tien."

"I'm not second guessing myself. I'm admitting I was wrong. There's a difference."

"Isn't that what you're doing anyway? Now. By deciding for us where we will and will not go? Deciding that we're not going is just the same as deciding that we are…"

"I'm protecting you."

Atton spun toward her in surprise. "Oh, really? And who will there be to protect you?"

"I don't need protection."

"Oh, so now you're going all 'great Jedi' on me? When did you suddenly grow that inflated ego?"

"This is _not_ about ego!" Tien stood up, her stance about as angry as Atton had ever seen from her. He followed her to his feet.

"Then what is it?" he asked, looking down at her. She turned away. "What?" Atton whispered, his expression softening as he stepped toward her. She remained silent, though, and wholly unable to look him in the eye.

Atton closed his eyes, standing silently in the room trying to figure out, pinpoint exactly where things had gone so wrong, exactly where his friend had so firmly decided that alone was better and damn those she… those that cared about her.

He felt an arm snake around his back and a head drop to his shoulder. Her dirty blonde hair barely brushed his chin and he opened his eyes, resting his chin on her head. He wrapped his own arms around her and held her silently, not really knowing what else to do.

* * *

"Everything okay?" Mira asked, turning as the Disciple entered the cockpit.

The Disciple sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair. "I hope so."

"Well, we're almost there. Most of the fleet is still in orbit around Telos, so we should be in for a welcome."

"It'll be fine. And, if the Admiral's still on Telos, we might be able to find a little more direction. If there's anyone who knows where Revan's gone, it's him. Or he knows who does know."

"Direction? Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions just a bit?" Mira asked, glancing over at him skeptically. All she'd hoped for on Citadel Station was a nice warm docking bay and an empty refresher with her name on it…

"What did you think was going to happen next? That we'd come back to a hero's welcome and live happily ever after? I'm afraid this whole ordeal is far from over…"

"Oookay… let's back up for a minute and address your liberal application of the term 'we."

The Disciple looked back at her, surprised. "Well… I assumed you would want to come…"

"Come where? Off to the Unknown Regions? Tell me this… does it bother you at all, what we've been doing?" She lounged in the pilot's seat, letting the autopilot do its job. She stretched her arms up, working out the soreness that had started building throughout her body since her confrontation with Hanharr. Medpacks and Jedi healing were wonderful, but there was really only so much they could do… "Besides," she continued, "you seem pretty convinced that _you're_ going. I kind of got the impression that she doesn't want company."

"Bother me? No, not at all… And as far as not wanting company, we'll see. Why are you asking me this?"

"You don't feel… different… here? Like you're not quite in control of yourself? Around Tien?"

"You think she's somehow controlling our actions?" The Disciple asked.

Mira thought for a moment. "I've talked with her… I've seen her do things for people, wonderful things… Seen the risks she's taken to make things better… I… I believe in what she's doing, in what _we're_ doing, but sometimes I wonder why. I've done things since I joined you that I don't think I would have done before, felt things that I wouldn't have felt before… And I wonder why."

"Perhaps you're thinking about this too… corporeally," the Disciple mused cautiously.

"Corporeally," Mira replied skeptically. The Disciple took a deep breath.

"Let me try to explain. Maybe you're giving one _person_ too much credit. Granted, Tien is a powerful woman and builds bonds with the people closest to her easily. But what is it that makes that possible? Kreia explained it before and I hadn't caught on then… but the Force seems to have a will, Mira. Maybe what you need to attribute these changes to is not any single person, but the Force itself, acting through her, through all of us," the Disciple looked at the scout beside him, hoping he'd managed to make some sense and helped to put his friend's mind at ease.

Mira looked back at him with questions written all over her face. "Is the Force alive? Sentient?" she asked. The Disciple pondered the question for a moment, wondering if it was wise for him to be carrying on a philosophical discussion of such importance with Mira, considering his own lack of training. But as it turned out, it was an idea he'd often wondered about himself.

"I don't know," was the only really honest answer he could give her. "Sometimes it really seems like it… the Force does seem to have a will of its own—intentions and means to ends. But sometimes it seems more like a tool. I suppose it all depends on how you chose to use it. Whether you ask it to help you as an equal or bend it to your own will, objectifying it and turning it into something less than what it is."

"Is the dark more powerful, or the light?" the Disciple turned his head away from Mira for a moment and raised his eyebrows in a brief expression of frustration. She'd absorbed one topic and moved right onto the next, with barely a transition to bridge the gap.

"You know, maybe that's something you should ask Tien…" he answered. Mira shook her head.

"Right now, I think she probably wants the answers to the very same questions I'm asking. Let's face it, things are not exactly ideal right now. When I reach out for her… all I feel is confusion. Like she's just as lost as anyone else," the redhead replied. The Disciple found himself unable to disagree.

"I… I'm no expert, Mira. I can only tell you what I believe… whether or not that belief is worth something, I really couldn't tell you…"

"Can I tell you what I believe?" she said, turning to him with the most… focused expression he'd ever seen on her face outside of battle.

"Of course."

"I think the dark side is slavery."

The Disciple remained silent, waiting for her to explain.

Mira continued, satisfied that she had his attention. "If the Force has life to it… If it really is something with a will of its own… and someone… _twists_ it and uses it… forces it to do something against its… well, will… couldn't that be slavery? Couldn't that… perversion… be just as bad or worse as using and twisting people against their wills?"

Her companion nodded. "But then… is it possible for the light side to work in an opposite fashion? Could the will of the Force not twist its wielders in the same way, but to a morally right way? Can it exert its own influence against the will of others, as you feel it's done for you? And does the fact that this particular twist guides one in a morally righteous direction, does that make it actually right?" he countered. Mira's jaw dropped.

"I hadn't thought of it like that," she replied. The Disciple mentally winced. Perhaps that particular philosophical musing had been better left unshared. "So what? This whole Jedi thing is lose-lose?"

"I suppose that all goes back to what you believe," said the Disciple. "I don't know about you, but I'm not doing the right thing against my will. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not a slave to the Force, but a companion to it. What are you?" He looked at her pointedly. Mira took a breath and turned away, biting nervously at her thumbnail.

"My brain hurts," she finally replied, turning back to him with a pleading look on her face, like she wanted him to just tell her the right answer so she could stop thinking about it.

The man grinned. "Of course it does. This whole 'Jedi thing' is not easy. Nor is it supposed to be."

Mira snorted. "Now there's an understatement."

"Are we there yet?"

Mira and the Disciple turned around in their chairs to see Atton stride into the cockpit, Tien appearing behind him, unusually drawn and silent.

The Disciple glanced back at the console to find that they were, in fact, minutes away from re-entering normal space near Telos.

"Um… yes, actually. Should just be a few more minutes."

Atton turned to Tien. "Are we docking?" he asked her. She nodded.

"Yes. And if you wouldn't mind contacting Lieutenant Grenn…"

"Sure. No problem," Atton replied softly. Tien gave him a small smile before making her way back out of the small room. Atton and the Disciple looked at each other. Atton shook his head and met his friend's eyes again. "I'm worried."

The Disciple merely nodded before rising from his chair, motioning Mira to join him. Atton sat down in the seat Mira vacated, and prepared to take the Ebon Hawk out of hyperspace.


	2. Chapter 2

Tien made her way down the _Ebon Hawk's_ ramp and for the first time, managed to get a good look at the sheer scope of the damage done by their time on Malachor V.

"Wow," she breathed, turning to Atton who was already glaring up at the ship pensively, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yup."

Tien shook her head again and whistled appreciatively at the extent of the damage to the ship. Atton smirked and looked over at her. He frowned.

"Hey," Atton tried to get her attention. She looked away from the ship and turned to see Atton staring at her quizzically. "Where's your lightsaber?" he asked.

Tien opened her mouth to respond just as Dol Grenn entered the docking bay on Citadel Station, interrupting whatever she'd been planning to say.

"The Exile returns," he commented dryly.

"So we have," Tien replied with a confidence Atton somehow knew to be false. She was putting up a front.

"I can't say I didn't expect it. After you left the station, though, we weren't really sure what was going to happen," Grenn replied, shaking Tien's outstretched hand.

"If you don't mind, Lieutenant, I'm actually here to explain as much as I can. Is Admiral Onasi still here?"

"Yes Ma'am, he's waiting for you in the TSF Station. He wanted to be notified if you returned…"

"I'd like to see him right away," said Tien. Grenn nodded and motioned for the two humans and the droid to follow him.

* * *

"You're putting a lot of faith in this one fallen Jedi, Carth. You don't even know if she's still alive or if she is, if there's even any chance for success. It's been four years…"

Carth Onasi glanced tiredly at Bastila, shaking his head. "This 'Exile' is more Jedi than many Jedi I have met. You seem to have had more faith in Revan knowing that she was once the Dark Lord then you have in this one Jedi who did nothing but go to war…"

"Don't get me wrong, Carth. I… I sincerely want her to be alive, and I want to believe that the Exile has returned for a reason… I know she has. I just don't know yet what that reason is."

"If you discover that reason, Bastila, please don't hesitate to tell me. I've been wondering the same thing…"

"Tien Parren," Bastila turned and regarded her former classmate from the Academy on Dantooine. The Exile entered the room followed by a young human male and female.

"Bastila Shan," Tien smiled, trying to shake the memory of Bastila's apparition in Ludo Kresh's tomb on Korriban. "I'm relieved to see you well. I was under the impression that the Jedi were all but extinct."

Bastila nodded solemnly. "It would seem some of us have managed to survive."

"Though now fewer than before." The woman's eyes fell and her voice softened. "Masters Kavar, Zez-Kai Ell, and Vrook are dead, Bastila," said the Exile. Carth looked over at Bastila to gauge her response. She masked her disappointment poorly.

"How?" she breathed.

"If I'd known you were here, I would have told you before the Ravager… but they were killed. On Dantooine."

"By you?" Bastila shot back, her voice a stark opposite from the Exile's soft, almost repentant countenance.

The Exile's eyes grew very wide, very fast. "No! Of course not! Bastila, no matter what you may think of me, please know that I would never—"

"Never what? Go against the Council's direct orders? Would never do something you would come to regret?"

"Bastila!" Carth reached her in two long steps, standing directly in front of her, between the Jedi and the Exile. "Would you—"

"No, Admiral…" Tien interrupted. Carth turned around. "I may not have been the one to end their lives, but I am responsible in no small way. Bastila has every right to—"

"What are you talking about?! Tien, I may not have been standing right there, but I know you aren't responsible for this… Kreia killed them, not you. From what I gathered, there wasn't anything you could do to stop it," Atton interjected, grasping Tien's arm to make her listen to him.

"Kreia?" breathed Bastila, just loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear it.

"Who the hell is Kreia?" Carth asked, turning to Bastila for an explanation.

"Revan's teacher," she replied simply. Bastila's eyes met Tien's and they held each other's gaze for a moment. Carth could almost see the Force pulling them together, building a sense of understanding for and from each woman's perspective, using this new piece of shared knowledge as a bridge.

"She was with you?" Bastila asked, sidestepping around Carth to get closer to the Exile.

"Yes," Tien replied, her eyes never leaving Bastila's. "She was on the _Ebon Hawk_, she boarded the Harbinger, she took me off that ship and was with us on Peragus. From the beginning. Hell, from _before_ the beginning. This was all her doing, Bastila. She was trying to… to _kill_ the Force. To make the whole galaxy empty of it."

"Like you were empty of it," Bastila conceded. Tien nodded. "It does make a twisted kind of sense."

"Imagine how I feel…" Tien noted ruefully.

"I… really try not to," Bastila offered a small smile. "Forgive me…"

"There's nothing to forgive, Bastila. You're human… we all are, Jedi or not," Tien replied softly. "I'm sorry… I was going to let them… but Kreia… there was nothing I could do."

"Let them what?" Carth asked.

Atton snorted. "They were going to strip her of the Force again," he answered, his disgust with the Council obvious.

"Hey, who _are _you anyway?" Carth said, walking over to the young man and addressing him with the slightest hint of humor in his voice. It was quite possible that he just wanted to escape deep Jedi debate for a second, but Carth wasn't about to tell anyone that.

The young man seemed to get it, though, and decided to play along, ignoring Bastila and Tien's ongoing conversation. "Atton Rand, sir. Tien… found me on the Peragus mining facility."

"Everyone there was dead. How did you survive?" Carth asked, recalling his recent mission to the region to determine the cause of the explosion. The reports had been explicit.

"Actually, I owe my life to a detention cell," Atton winced, expecting a new and exciting interrogation regarding his reasons for being in said detention cell. Instead, the Admiral laughed.

"Yep. Been in my share of those. Though I can't say I owe my life to any."

Atton smirked in agreement.

"Admiral," Tien interrupted. Carth turned back to the two Jedi to find both looking much calmer.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I'm going after Revan," the Exile said. Out of the corner of his eye, the Admiral thought he saw Atton wince at her straightforward words. Carth nodded, silently urging her to continue. There was an excitement, a hope in his heart all of the sudden, along with a deep stab of selfishness. He had wanted to hear those words so badly…

"I came back here first, though, because I need your help," the Exile said. Carth looked at her quizzically.

"What do you need from me? I don't know where she went. She didn't even say goodbye when she left—"

"I know," she added quickly. "I found your message in T3-M4's behavior core."

"Ah."

"I know you don't know where she's gone… but the _Ebon Hawk_ does."

"She locked the Navicomputer, didn't she?" Carth responded, knowingly. Tien nodded.

"Voice-locked. I tried to get HK to imitate—"

"HK? HK-47?" the Admiral asked.

"None other. He seemed determined to counter my attempts at finding anything out about his past. I assume, though, that he was in Revan's service, seeing as the _Ebon Hawk_ was her ship and I found the droid in one of its storage bays."

"Yes, HK was hers." Carth looked over at Bastila sadly. "She didn't even take the droids…"

Bastila merely nodded in silent understanding. She and Carth had become very good friends in the years since their meeting, despite their initial animosities. She knew how deeply his grief ran…

"And thank the Force she didn't. Revan did not disappear completely, nor do I believe it was her intension to vanish without a trace. The droids are the first piece of the puzzle."

Carth nodded. "The Navicomputer wasn't wiped, just locked… and T3's behavior and memory cores obviously could have been better encrypted than they were. If she truly wanted to be lost and never found, she would have covered her tracks better. She was surely capable of it."

"She left clues," Bastila confirmed. Tien nodded her assent.

"And then there's Kreia. For whatever reason, Kreia sought Revan out… or it could be the other way around. I don't know yet, but Kreia's presence does serve to prove that there were contacts made. Revan made stops on her way to the Unknown Regions—and when she got where she was going, she was not empty handed. Nor was she lacking of a plan."

"You want to follow in her footsteps?" Atton wondered aloud. "Go where she went, and you'll end up where she ended up?"

"That's the idea," Tien replied. "We just have to find out where she went," she continued.

Tien caught on to the Admiral's extended silence.

"You know more than you let on, don't you, Admiral?" Tien smiled. The Admiral just raised his eyebrows and glanced at Bastila. The Jedi shrugged.

"I have a… vague idea," Onasi replied. "She didn't just… disappear. We were on Coruscant and I knew something was up. She was acting strange, spending more and more time with the Jedi Council, doing research. She talked about it a great deal… about her nightmares and distant memories of a deeper evil. It became all she could think about."

"The Jedi Council was reluctant to hear or do anything about her concerns. The Republic was too weak to go after another threat and the Jedi Order was not faring any better," Bastila interrupted. "She worked so hard at building and presenting her case, but the Council wouldn't be swayed. She could not convince them to sanction a mission… even when her own life was the only one she asked to be put at risk. When I offered to stand with her, she wouldn't accept it."

"After a couple months of watching Revan let this whole thing consume her, I… the last time I spoke with her, we were not on the best of terms. I begged her to forget it for now… For the Force's sake, I actually supported the Jedi Council in their decision to not pursue Revan's Sith threat from the Unknown Regions. I told her she was doing too much… that she couldn't take sole responsibility for the survival of the Republic on her shoulders, no matter what she'd done in the past. She um… disagreed.

Finally, she just left. Mission, Zaalbar, and Juhani had decided to go back to Taris to help with what little reconstruction was taking place there… They had been with us on our mission to find and destroy the Star Forge," he clarified. Tien nodded, choosing to save her questions about the 'Star Forge' for a bit later. "She said she would use the time to think, that maybe I was right, that the Council was right… she would use the trip as a break. She took them to Taris in the _Ebon Hawk_, she sent me a message when she got there… But then she never came back to Coruscant. When I contacted Mission to see what had happened to her, she was surprised. She said that Revan said that she'd told me she wouldn't be back… That I knew what she had gone to do."

"Sneaky," said Atton, throwing a sideways glance in Tien's direction. If she had seen it, she would have known it for the warning it was. He hoped she wasn't getting any ideas.

Carth snorted. "Ah… yeah." He paused, weighing a difficult decision before continuing. "You know… there may be something I can do after all…" Carth mused.

TBC… If anybody thinks it's worth continuing… :)


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, first off… terribly sorry for the formatting errors in the first two chapters. There were a few line breaks that didn't quite make it over. Told ya this was my first story. :) They have been fixed.

As for some notes on this chapter and following chapters, I just want to clarify that I'm basing this story on one of my own games… one that I finished before acquiring _The Bible_. (Thank you, oh great _Prima_ for your glorious strategy guides!) Anyway, even after finishing two separate games _before_ using any walkthroughs or cheats, I still managed to miss a whole heck of a lot… including some further development of one character in particular. I plan to rectify that in this story. You'll see.

So, of course, spoilers ahoy, in case you hadn't already guessed. And as usual, nothing belongs to me except the original story and characters. Further a/n's at the end.

* * *

"You know, being angry isn't going to change anything," the Disciple said. 

A random shoe flew towards his head; he ducked just in time to be missed.

"And throwing things at me certainly isn't going to help, either. She's a grown woman, Atton, and a powerful Jedi. Surely you know that whatever happens, she can handle it."

Atton glared at the young Consular, at once glad to have commiserating company and irritated as hell at the Disciples smug peace with the whole situation. Secretly, Atton envied his ability to move beyond anger the way he did. It was something Atton struggled with constantly…

He sighed. "I know _that_," said the Sentinel, letting himself fall into the big chair next to his bed. The apartment the Admiral had secured for them was sparse, but very comfortable, especially compared to some of the places they'd been lately. And it was certainly nicer than the one he and Tien had shared with Kreia on their first 'visit' to Citadel Station. The Disciple watched him earnestly from his seat at the table. The vase of bright pink Ithorian Carnations seemed dramatically out of place as a centerpiece.

"Do you wonder though, if maybe the 'powerful Jedi' part isn't so accurate anymore?" Atton mused aloud, finally, glancing over at the Disciple, who's expression changed to one of contemplation.

"How so?" he asked. Atton continued.

"Didn't you notice that she hasn't even picked up her lightsaber since Malachor?"

The Disciple leaned forward intently. "No. No, I hadn't noticed that. Are you sure you just haven't missed it? Not to mention, there are few reasons to have a weapon clipped to your belt on board a ship full of your friends…"

"No, I thought of that," Atton replied. "I didn't question it either… until we got here. She didn't have it with her when we got off of the _Hawk_ to talk to Carth and Bastila, either. That's when I really started to wonder… I mean, even_ I_ had _mine_…"

The door on the other side of the room opened and Mira walked in, distinctly alone. She threw her bag at the nearest chair with a little more force than necessary. Unfortunately, the nearest chair was the one the Disciple had claimed only a few minutes ago. He caught the bag and set it down on the table gently, as though apologizing to it for Mira's rude behavior. The bounty hunter didn't notice.

"I talked to everyone I could find!" Mira said, throwing her arms over her head in exasperation. "She stopped in that store with those creepy brothers, bought a few supplies, and took our ship!"

"Did you—"

"Find Visas? No, she's gone too," Mira replied to the Disciple's half-asked question. "Did you guys find anything in the docking bay?"

Atton nodded and rose from his chair, silently moving over toward a footlocker against the wall. He opened it, displaying the random personal items the group had either had or acquired on their journey. Tien had at least been kind enough to leave them their things. "Yep. She packed for us. Nice, huh?" he said. Mira joined him in front of the locker and started sifting through the various items. Among their personal things, the Jedi Watchman had left them some weapons, medpacks, stims… all sorts of things that they would need if they were actually _doing_ something, but not if they were stuck on Citadel Station.

Beneath the folded form of a Norris Robe, a datapad caught her eye. "This is new…" she murmured to herself, picking it up. Atton leaned over and took the pad from her.

* * *

Bao-Dur and Chodo Habat had known each other for some time. Ever since the Zabrak had set foot on Citadel Station with the intention of helping with the Telosian reconstruction project. The Ithorian Chief was a kind soul, and Bao-Dur had liked him instantly, as he believed Habat had liked him. 

Today, that friendship was not proving fruitful, however.

"I apologize, Bao-Dur. If I had any information to give you regarding the Exile, I would surely share it. But since her return to Citadel Station following the destruction of the _Ravager_ I have not seen or spoken with her, only felt her presence. Incredible how much she has healed since our last meeting…" Chodo said, trailing off as he considered the woman.

Bao-Dur took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Each of his companions had gone their separate ways since coming back to the station, all following different avenues of investigation regarding Tien's abrupt disappearance. They all had an unspoken knowledge of where she had gone, if not in actual spacial coordinates, but the search continued nonetheless. Bao-Dur had chosen to pursue his own connections on Citadel Station, though, while the others had taken a more improvisational approach. 

"When you say you felt her presence, when you say she has healed, what do you mean?" He asked. Chodo's eyes smiled.

"I have felt her presence just as you have felt it. As I feel you right now, as I feel the Admiral's friend-Jedi, as I feel _your_ friends-Jedi. The Force connects us all."

Bao-Dur was rather taken aback. How long had he known this Ithorian? "I didn't know you were a Jedi…" he said. Chodo laughed.

"I am not. I am merely an adept, untrained and un-needing of training. I am content as I am, with what the Force has given me."

"And what has the Force given you, if you don't mind my asking?" the gentle engineer queried.

"I have been blessed with abilities to heal those in need of healing, Bao-Dur. To breathe life back into the dying, sentient or not. That is why I am here… what greater calling than to aide in the healing of a _world_?"

Bao-Dur smiled. There had been times when he felt a bit left out… as seemingly everyone Tien had met along the way had turned out to have Jedi futures except him. He'd taken his solace in his own unique abilities, but sometimes, he had wished he had more to offer. Even some small gift like the one Chodo cherished would be… welcome. But he had resigned himself and made peace with his normalcy. Besides, he thought, nowadays it was probably much safer to not be a Jedi…

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Chodo. I'll be going now. Please, though… if you find anything out about Tien or another Jedi that was traveling with us—Visas Marr… please let me know."

"Of course, Bao-Dur. It has been an honor to speak with you again and to know that you are well."

Bao-Dur nodded and turned to leave the room.

"Bao-Dur—one moment, please?" he heard Chodo entreat as he readied to leave. He turned around to face the Ithorian.

"What is it?" he asked rather uneasily. A feeling of dread/excitement flitted through his stomach.

"I am a healer of more than just the physical body, Bao-Dur. And you have done much for us—for my herd and for Telos. I wish to repay you if you'll allow it."

"Repay me? Chodo, that's not necessary… I've already gotten out of my work here whatever I hoped to…"

"Absolution?" Chodo interrupted.

"What?" Bao-Dur replied, startled. It was as though Chodo had just looked into his heart and plucked just the right word out of it.

"You hoped to do good here, to repay the galaxy here, for some unforgivable wrong you feel you committed against it."

Bao-Dur's jaw dropped and he looked at the Ithorian incredulously. Did he know about Malachor V? How could he know about Malachor V… _either_ time he'd been responsible for destroying it…

"Perhaps you have not found the forgiveness that you seek from yourself, yet… but know that your work, your deeds and intentions are felt. My friend… will you not finally accept that the past is past? You may make up for what you feel you have done for the rest of your life… perhaps that is _your_ calling. But your journey need not be only a product of guilt," Chodo observed. Bao-Dur still had no compelling response, so he remained silent.

Chodo approached him slowly and grasped his good arm, closing his eyes and opening them again.

"Why did you first come to Telos, my friend?" he asked.

Bao-Dur replied softly and hesitantly, "I couldn't stay in one place… after the War… as long as I kept moving, I didn't have to think about it… about the death and destruction. I put as much distance between it and myself as I could, but it kept following me." He shrugged. "I came here because it was one more place where I could come, do some measure of penance, and leave again…"

"So why did you stay?" Chodo asked quietly. It was true… Bao-Dur had stayed here far longer than he'd stayed anywhere else. Why? He'd never thought about it before.

"I stayed because… because for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was somewhere I was supposed to be. Because here there was something important going on… I had a purpose… meaning… and a sense of home. Like I would never again find the relative peace that I'd found here on any other world."

"Like something compelled you to stay… like some… _force _was compelling you to stay? Telling you that you'd found what you were looking for, and if you hadn't… you _would_ find it here. Nowhere else," Chodo said.

"Some _force_?" Bao-Dur replied. Chodo backed away, sensing his reluctance to get his point.

Chodo nodded dolefully, as though realizing he had been mistaken about something. "My friend, the moment will come when you will finally be released of this life-debt you have attached to yourself. And when that chain falls away, your eyes will open." Chodo shook his head. "But not before."

* * *

Bao-Dur entered the apartment in time to see Atton shut off the console on the wall. Atton looked up to see him enter and both men joined the rest of the group around the table. Mira, the Disciple, and Atton all looked more than a little depressed. 

"What's happened," he asked, almost feeling the distress in the room.

"See for yourself," Mira snorted, glancing at the console. Bao-Dur approached it and saw a datapad in the receptacle. He activated it, and a holographic log appeared. Tien appeared before them at about half-height, looking rather awkward.

"_You all knew I was going to do this," Tien said. "It was only a matter of when. I've spoken to Admiral Onasi and he's agreed to make living and transport arrangements for all of you… whatever you need, whenever you need it. Just ask." She sighed and clasped her hands in front of her. The image fritzed, then went back to normal. _

"_I hope… I hope that perhaps, putting some distance between us will help you all to see… to… follow your own paths and stop following mine. It wasn't right, what was happening… and I want you to know how sorry I am that I dragged you into this. It's been my fight from the beginning and should have stayed that way to the end. I'll not put anyone's life in danger but my own, from now on, and I ask you to respect that. _

"_I've gone after Revan. Carth knows where I've gone, and if you ask him, he won't lie. But again… I ask you to respect my decision. I take this responsibility as my own._

"_I cannot deny, however, that your lives are still in danger, whether I'm with you or not. There is still a bounty on the heads of Jedi, there are still militant assassination droids following that blasted recording device from Peragus, there are still Sith out there looking to wipe out all that is good in the Galaxy. _

"_I leave it up to you… Mira, you can go back to Nar Shadaa… continue finding people, making them whole again and using the Force to guide you. Disciple, you can return to Dantooine… protect the Enclave and restore the Jedi. Bao-Dur… you have yet to realize how strong you really are… your kindness and abilities could do measureless good in this galaxy And… make sure HK doesn't kill anything, okay? Visas… know that you were never lost as long as your heart stayed pure… and I believe it always has. Share what you know of the Force. I… envy the peace you've come to have. Use it well." She smiled shyly. " And Atton… you are more valuable than you know… A long time ago, I once met a great Jedi named Jolee Bindo…" Tien's image smiled warmly at the thought. "You remind me of him… and I think you'll do the Galaxy as great a service in your life as he has…_

"_I don't intend to die here," she finally said, her voice taking on a more resolved tone. She smirked. "And when I get back, I expect to see these great Jedi have done something of worth, as I know you can."_

_She bowed her head. "I'm sorry I've left… I'm sorry I'm… abandoning you. Please know that. But this is the right thing, and if you look in your hearts, look to the Force, I know you'll see the same thing I do. Be safe, my friends. And may the Force be with you." _

The image wavered then blinked out all together. Bao-Dur flopped down into the remaining empty chair around the table and sighed. The four companions were all silent. Bao-Dur guessed they were all as lacking in response as he was. What was there to say, really?

"Well… it seems we all have a few choices to make," the Disciple finally said. Three faces turned to his, more surprised than anything that he'd had the gall to break the silence.

Atton shook his head and stood up, not making eye contact with anyone as he hastily grabbed his outer robe and lightsaber from one of the beds and made his way to the door.

"Where are you _going_?" Mira asked, staring at him with a penetrating look in her eyes. Atton stopped and faced his friends still seated around the table.

"The only choice I'm making right now is which ship to steal to get to Taris," he said pointedly.

"What?" replied the Disciple, practically jumping out of his chair.

"That's where she's going. I know it. If I can get a ship, I might be able to beat her there, or at least get there before she leaves. This is stupid… she knows it's stupid. She shouldn't have gone alone. What is she thinking, anyway? I'll tell you… she's _not_ thinking…" the scoundrel rambled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as the Disciple blocked his path to the door.

Mira and Bao-Dur looked at each other from each end of the table as their two friends faced each other down. Mira shrugged and turned back to the argument waiting to happen.

"I want to go with you," said the Disciple finally, his shoulders falling as he sighed. He looked up at Atton, who's eyes had widened significantly. Mira and Bao-Dur's heads bolted up with beautiful synchronicity. That had not been the anticipated answer.

"Wait, wait, wait… just a minute, here. Steal a ship? What are you talking about! If anything's stupid here, that idea is it." Mira stood up, adopting an unusually mature and matronly pose, as if preparing to scold her errant children. Bao-Dur silently watched the scene from his chair.

Atton and the Disciple looked at each other guiltily, then they both looked toward Mira, expecting her to suddenly have all the answers.

"So what do _you_ propose?" Atton asked, finally.

"Well, why should we steal a ship?" she asked. "Tien said that Admiral Onasi would arrange anything we needed. We go talk to him, maybe find out a little more, like where in the Galaxy Visas might be—for all we know, she saw something we missed," she added under her breath. "…then we simply accept whatever gifts he's willing to extend us," Mira finished confidently.

"Fine," Atton responded, just a little bit of disappointment on the edge of his voice. "Will do it the _legitimate_ way…"

* * *

"May the Force be with you…" replied the Admiral, following Tien's acknowledgement of the Station's prescribed escape vectors from Telos. She owed him. 

T3 warbled behind her from the galaxy map as he input the coordinates for their destination.

Tien set the warning system to signal throughout the ship when it was time to exit hyperspace and rose from her seat in the cockpit. For about the tenth time in as many minutes, she wished Atton were here. Every time she would enter this cockpit from now on, she knew, she would expect him to be here waiting for her, Pazaak deck and all.

She sighed and meandered down the corridor to the main hold, mind already beginning to wander. It was a long trip to Taris, and she had a lot of time on her hands. She could meditate, she supposed. But the whole idea almost made her sick to her stomach. Like when she looked at her lightsaber, now. She'd been working so hard at redemption, at earning the right to be a Jedi… now those things were just painful reminders of what she decided she could never be again. Redemption or no.

She would be as good a person as she could be, Tien had concluded. Anything more than that was perhaps too lofty a goal for an exile.

She missed them. Terribly. It was so quiet, and she wondered now how she had ever survived being alone for so long after her sentencing. She wandered through the ship, imagining Mandalore in the main hold, goading GO-TO in the special way that only he could. Bao-Dur puttering in the garage while HK and the Remote settled their differences. Mira watching everything from her little nook... Had she felt as lonely being away from the teeming life on Nar Shadaa as Tien felt now? And Visas… she was still a mystery. Why had she really stayed?

Tien stepped into the port dormitory, and could actually see the Miraluka in her customary place on the floor, her new cyan lightsaber resting in her lap. The Exile decided that she needed to get more sleep—she was imagining things now.

Then Visas turned and rose in one fluid motion, facing Tien. "My life for yours," she said. Tien stepped toward her, gawking… for lack of a better expression.

"How did you—"

"You may have bested my former Master, but my vow to protect you remains," the young woman said, her voice graceful and real.

"Visas," Tien said, almost pleadingly. For a split second she considered turning around and going back to Citadel Station, but thought better of it. No… it was too late now. Besides, maybe the Force was trying to tell her something. Visas was here for a reason…

"Visas… _we_ defeated Darth Nihilus. Together," she said. "Don't ever belittle your own part in it. In your place, I don't think I could have been as strong as you were."

Visas' lip curled up very slightly… the first shadow of a smile that Tien had ever seen on her face.

"I am… glad you're here, Visas." Suddenly, the Exile didn't feel so alone anymore.

* * *

More a/n: 

Wow, this was more of a response than I expected! vbg>

Napoleon- I shall endeavor to not disappoint. Thank you.

Shike, Mad Dragon, Snackfiend, and Darth Striker- Thanks for the encouragement. I'm definitely going to keep it up. Thank you.

Also, please don't be too disappointed in me if updates come like, once a week or something. College starts back up on Tuesday, and I've leaden myself with 18 credit hours and 2 jobs. Gah… just shoot me now. But fortunately, I have no life otherwise… :)

P.S. Constructive criticism helps me out as a writer… please keep it coming. I'm very thick-skinned… g>


	4. Chapter 4

_Insert standard disclaimer here. :) Not mine, no money… but all original material is mine.

* * *

_

"I was wondering when you were going to stop by, Commander," Admiral Onasi smiled as the Disciple entered the room. They met each other halfway and shook hands.

"Well, here I am," the Disciple noted rather unnecessarily. Carth nodded shortly, smirking as he led his fellow soldier over to the computer terminal he had been studying.

"I've been reading your reports… there's quite a bit to catch up on. You've been… ah… very detailed," the Admiral half-winced, half-grinned. The Disciple laughed. Onasi's distaste for paperwork was legendary.

"I'm sorry, Sir… There's been a lot to tell."

"No kidding. But frankly, it's been something of a welcome distraction from the clean-up effort. Things are pretty much back to normal here on Citadel Station, but it took a lot of work… That attack was definitely not something we needed." Carth sighed.

"I don't think it's something we _ever_ need, Sir."

The Disciple watched silently as Carth looked past the computer terminal and out the window into space. The wreckage of the _Ravager_ was still in orbit, dropping piece by piece like asteroids to the surface of Telos as their orbits slowly decayed. Salvage ships were still out there, sifting through the remains of the ships destroyed in the battle. There were representatives out there from several worlds—The Disciple could recognize the Mandalorian ships, the Onderronian vessels, some Telosian, Corellian… And there had been soldiers on the Station when the attack came even from as far away as Dantooine. It had been amazing… still was. He could feel the resolution in the Force as it had united so many here for a single cause. Telos was turning out to be important… though more so and in different ways than he had thought.

"Before I forget, Lieutenant Grenn asked me to tell you that the TSF reviewed the surveillance footage from the _Ebon Hawk's_ docking bay. That young woman you've been combing the station for…" Carth said.

"Visas?" the Disciple replied. The Admiral nodded.

"She boarded the _Hawk_ about two hours before the Exile did. I think you can stop looking for her, now."

The Disciple smiled to himself. "That's… good to know…" he said.

"Have a seat, Commander," Carth finally turned away from the window and the Disciple followed him over to a desk near the wall of the Admiral's makeshift office. Apparently, he'd chosen to stay on the Station for a while.

"The attack almost completely drained our fuel reserves," Carth began, having made himself comfortable behind the desk. The Disciple shook his head.

"I didn't think the situation was so dire…" he replied.

"No… no, it _is_ that dire. We've got about enough fuel on the Station to keep it in orbit for the next two months. After that…"

The Commander sighed. "I see," he said.

"I'm going to ask something of you," Carth said quietly. His face grew darker and more intense. The Disciple straightened unconsciously and nodded, curious. "I want you to consider re-enlisting, Commander—" The Disciple opened his mouth to speak, but Carth put a hand up quickly, cutting him off. The Admiral shook his head and continued. "I know you resigned your commission after the Jedi Civil War, and I know you had your reasons for it… but the truth is, the Jedi aren't the only ones hurting, here. The Jedi have all but fallen, and the Republic itself isn't far behind. We could use good people like you."

"I may not have been leading any battles in the last few years, Admiral, but I have never stopped serving the Republic…" The Disciple replied. "I am no longer a soldier."

Carth pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "I see your time on Dantooine has led to more than discoveries of _historical_ significance," he said, nodding his head toward the Disciple's lightsaber, partially hidden by his robes.

"I joined the Republic military because there was nothing left for me in the Order. With so many Knights leaving for the Mandalorian War, then the Civil War… There were not enough Jedi to train the adepts who had gathered at the Enclave," The Disciple clarified. "Then… one of the teachers meant for us returned…"

The Admiral nodded. "The Exile."

"Yes. My destiny lies with the Jedi, now…" the Disciple looked to Carth, seeking understanding. The Admiral thought for a moment; his expression was inscrutable, but the Disciple felt a calm thoughtfulness about the Telosian. "And before you ask anything further, you should know that I already have a mission…" he closed. Carth looked up at him.

"You want to follow the Exile."

"_Jedi_ Parren is my—our—teacher, and we do not intend to abandon her," the Disciple said, emphasizing the distinction of Tien's status. Carth nodded curtly in acknowledgement. "_When_ she finds Revan, do you really think that the two of them alone, no matter how powerful, will be able to defeat this great evil that Revan sought to extinguish? This great threat?" he asked. Carth shook his head.

"Revan is a lot of things—crazy being well at the top of the list. But she isn't stupid, and she isn't reckless. Well… _too_ reckless. She felt this was important enough to leave everything behind, risk everything to go and fight it. She wouldn't have gone off on a… a _suicide_ mission…"

"She may have if she thought that her death would not be in vain. If she thought she could defeat this evil, even knowing she would not return from it…" the Disciple prodded gently. Carth's face fell, and he was suddenly unwilling to look the Commander in the eye. "Perhaps she saw a slim margin for success, a scale barely tipped to one side or the other. She saw in that slim margin, the barest chance, the slightest of cracks to slip through. Tien's following her will tip that scale further… but it still may not be enough. And if Revan has already fallen in battle—and even if she has not—couldn't they use all the help they can get?"

"You already know that… Jedi… Parren had gone to Taris. What more do you want from me?" Carth asked, his eyes narrowed. The Disciple examined his features, startled to see just a little bit of defeat at the edges of his eyes. The Disciple stood.

"We need a ship, Admiral. And _I_ need your blessing. I have never, nor _will_ I ever, cease being an agent of the Republic. I am merely fighting on a different front, and I need you to understand that."

Carth sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "You know that when I first met Revan, she wasn't Revan at all. Had no idea—neither did I…" The Disciple nodded. He'd read the reports of Revan's capture and 'rehabilitation' in what was left of the Enclave archives. Carth continued. "I once asked her what it was like… to be a skilled, purposed soldier for as long as she could remember, then suddenly stop _fighting. _Practically overnight, she changed gears. She did a lot more _talking_ after we left Dantooine."

The Admiral laughed as though thinking of some suddenly remembered joke. "When I asked, if I remember correctly, she punched me." He winced and unconsciously rubbed at his shoulder. "How's that for not fighting?' she said. She rolled her eyes at me. Then, it was like she started channeling Bastila… she got so calm and quiet in that Jedi way of hers. She told me she never stopped fighting… and she never would. She was just doing things a little differently than before."

"So you understand…" said the Disciple. Carth smirked.

"No. Never have, never will. But… I _trust_ Revan. And I may not understand the Force, but I've seen what it can do. I can't believe in coincidence anymore." The Admiral took a deep breath. "The TSF has confiscated a good portion of Czerka's assets in the last couple of weeks. What was left of their people after they were driven off the Station and out of the Restoration Zones got out of here just before the _Ravager_ attacked. They left a couple of small freighters behind… guess they wrote them off as acceptable losses." He stood up. "They're yours if you want them, Commander."

The Disciple smiled broadly. "Thank you, Sir."

Carth nodded as they shook hands. "I do have one request…" the Admiral added. The Disciple studied him expectantly. "If your path happens to take you near Nar Shadaa…" the Admiral paused, choosing his words. "I realize that I can't make this an order, but your group is responsible for helping Citadel Station acquire a new fuel source, and as I said, the situation is getting more and more desperate by the day. Grenn has been in contact with Vogga the Hutt, but we're running out of time, and he still seems reluctant to get us the fuel from Sleheyron. Dol mentioned that the Hutt was still waiting for something that Tien had promised him…"

The Disciple sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "I know how important the Telos Restoration Project is to the Republic, Admiral. I think we can find the time to take care of this."

"Thank you, Commander," Admiral Onasi replied, visibly relieved. "The Czerka ships are berthed in bay 3 of Docking Module 126. I've already ordered the ID signatures of both ships wiped and rewritten, so you shouldn't attract too much unwanted attention…"

"Thank you, Sir," the Disciple instinctively saluted. The man can be taken out of the military, but the military can't be taken out of the man…

"Dismissed," Onasi replied, returning the salute. The Disciple turned to leave. "May the Force be with you."

The door slid shut behind the Disciple and Carth turned back to the window.

"You don't seriously think they're gonna be able to pull this off, do you?" Mandalore entered from the side office, trailed by the temporary assistant the Admiral had let him borrow while he reorganized the Mandalorian troops that had helped destroy the _Ravager_ and defend the station. The poor kid looked more than a little uncomfortable.

"Ever the ray of sunshine, aren't you, Canderous?"

"I'm not kidding, Onasi. I've spent time with them. They're kids. They can fight to save their own skins, but they don't have the Exile anymore. And they're green as grass."

"And what do you suggest I do about it _Mandalore_?"

"Hey, I'm just sayin'…"

"Yeah, well keep it to yourself," Carth sighed.

Mandalore cleared his throat. "Sure, fine, you're the boss… Anyway, I think I've got what I needed. If it's all the same to you, _Admiral_, my men and I will be heading back to our base."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me where that is?" Carth asked. Mandalore laughed.

"Not a snowball's chance on Tatooine, Onasi."

Carth rolled his eyes. "Naturally," he murmured. He could swear the universe was conspiring to keep in the dark about _everything_…

* * *

_The interloper stood on the plain, a light breeze causing her robes to billow around her and her loose hair to wisp into her face, obscuring her vision. A woman was crouched on the wet bank of the creek at the outskirts of a small copse of primitive huts. The olive complexion of the woman's face was obscured by her dark, shoulder length hair. The color was unique—coca brown with just enough of a violet tint to be noticed. . _

_She stood up, carrying a full pail of water in one hand, and looked at the robed stranger, her eyebrows rising. The woman set down her vessel and approached the interloper. _

"_You are far from home, Jedi," the woman said, coming to a halt a mere step away. _

"_I am not—" the blonde replied. The woman shook her head, tsk-ing quietly at her, like a disappointed mother. _

"_Pretense does not become you, Jedi," she interrupted.. _

"_Nor you, Revan" the interloper countered without hesitation. _

_The woman clucked again, extending her hands toward the interloper, palms up in a display of honesty. "You mistake me for someone else."_

"_Have we established nothing here about misrepresentation?" The stranger shrewdly replied. The woman chuckled. _

"_Apparently not. And it would seem that you are equally inept at recognizing mistakes when they are made, Jedi."_

"_What mistake is that?"_

"_Coming here, Jedi Parren. You will miss your exile before long."_

Tien woke with a jerk, nearly banging her head on the bottom of the bunk above her. The Ebon Hawk was quiet and still—Visas was still asleep above her, or was very good at pretending. For some reason, Tien instinctively assumed that pretending was more accurate. The dreams were incredibly vivid and it was almost impossible to go back to sleep after one. Visas seemed to instinctively know that she had not slept well since they began their trip two days ago.

Selfishly, Tien was grateful for the Miraluka's presence.

Not-so-selfishly, or maybe more so—she hadn't decided—she desperately wished she had been able to slip off of Citadel Station without her knowledge.

Tien swung her blanket off of her legs and sat up straight, her feet dropping to the deck. She sighed and stretched, knowing that it was doubtful that she would get any more sleep for now. She leaned over and picked her datapad up off of the deck beside her bunk and got up, making her way to the cockpit so as not to disturb Visas with a reading light. She passed T3 puttering in the communication's room, but he didn't notice her. Which was just as well.

She settled down in the pilot's seat, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her heels on the front edge of the seat. There were virtually terabytes of information stored in the datapad the Admiral had given her… a conglomeration of all the information Carth had about Revan, her missions, her past, star charts, ship's logs... as much as he had or could find—up to and including her personal logs.

Tien picked up reading where she had left off the day before… skimming the personal log of a Lyn Tyril. It made for pretty good reading, actually… crash landing on Taris, escaping to Dantooine, Jedi training… the discovery of the star maps. Kashyyk, Tatooine… Manaan.

_Only one more place to go, and we've… I've… saved it for last. I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I think about going to Korrban… 'The belly of the beast,' Jolee called it. He's right. But there's something more about it as well… I've never been there before, but I _feel_ oddly like I have… _

_Carth's making the final preparations for departure from Manaan, and then I guess we won't be able to put it off any longer. At least I'll have him there with me… He promised me he wouldn't let me fall. I wonder why I am so afraid of that? Maybe it's Bastila. She seems convinced that _she's _going to corrupt _me, _somehow. I might feel better if she was a little more confident, I think. _

The next entry was a single word.

_No. _

Tien tried to scroll down through the logs. "Where's the rest…" she mumbled, but there was nothing left to find. That was it. Lyn Tyril made no further entries.

But where her log ended, _Revan's_ began.

* * *

More a/n's:

Darkgirl: Thanks for your kind words. It takes some work to get into the characters' heads and sometimes I'm not very confident that I'm getting it right. (In this chapter, Carth and Canderous gave me some real problems. g> ) Keep on top of me and make sure I don't stray too far, kay? Thanks. :) And I'm glad you're diggin' Atton and the Disciple. They're my favorites to write.

Snackfiend: Yep! g> Thanks, too. There's a lot of places for Mira to go as a character and I can't wait to play with them.

Kosiah: I guess I feel like Atton and the gang have to start somewhere. If they're getting stressed out on Citadel Station, how are they gonna handle it when things start getting really rough? Wink-wink. :) Will try to keep your curiosity sated. And please, keep up the critiques… I need all the help I can get. Thank you.

Red Mage: Updating as fast as I can while still maintaining a quality product. :) Thanks for your kind words. I try not to disappoint.

Thanks everybody for the wonderful feedback! I haven't had this much fun writing a fic in like… years. g

P.S. I've read a few fics about male Exiles who found out the Handmaiden's name. I was just wondering if anyone playing as a female found out the Disciple's name, because I flatly refuse to make one up. I don't know… it just seems _wrong_ somehow. :) I don't know if it's even in the game, but if someone knows more than I do about it, please email me directly. It would be a big help. Thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

_Insert standard disclaimer. :) Not mine, no money… but all original material _is_ mine._

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_  
WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS _MAJOR_ SPOILERS FOR THE _END OF THE GAME! _GRANTED, THE PIECES I'VE LIFTED AREN'T TREMENDOUSLY EARTH-SHATTERING, BUT IF YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER! _I've taken a lot of dialogue right out of the game for this chapter... or as close to it as I could. I just can't write that fast... sniff. :)

* * *

_

Tien Parren was not the only Jedi aboard the _Ebon Hawk_ able to expand her senses. Visas Marr reached out, her hearing threading though the ship, amplified by her feelings. She let her emotions lead the way, separating herself from them and steering with an aura of peace. Objectively, she sought out her mentor touching her mind as she'd felt Tien do on occasion. It was not something Visas did often, but here, now… something made her feel it was necessary.

She touched Tien's mind before she expected to, finding it unusually open. Her quarry's consciousness was wandering, temporarily undisciplined and remarkably accessible. Visas paused at the threshold of the Jedi's mind, hesitant to enter, but she steeled herself, and finally stepped across.

She heard voices there, all tumbling around at once in the warm, comfortable darkness. Some were familiar, some were not. Some stood out and made themselves heard above all the others.

The old woman's especially.

The old woman's alto timbre was quite predominant.

And Visas remembered how often she had agreed with Kreia. While harboring mutual mistrust toward each other, Visas had known that the mistrust stemmed from mutual understanding… familiarity with the ways of the Sith. As a rule, the Sith abhor trust in all its forms, choosing instead to thrive on the strength of individualism and rigorous competition. One _has_ no allies when allied with the Sith.

She knew this now. She still struggled to reconcile what had been ingrained with what she now knew to be true. But the knowledge was there… and it was, as Tien would say, a good start.

Visas' perception jarred as, on the _Ebon Hawk_, something changed. Another presence actively joining her meditation.

"What did you want to know?" a voice asked her through the wall of focus she had built around herself as she centered. She mentally shifted, welcoming Tien into her warm darkness.

The images in Visas' mind moved faster than her ability to verbalize, and she conveyed to Tien merely a _sense_… of confusion. A discrepancy between what she had seen in the Jedi's heart and the Jedi's actions.

Tien mentally drew back, surprised and unable to hide the swell of self-recrimination that had crept in. Visas probed harder, convincing Tien of the concept Visas was only beginning to embrace—trust.

Tien could find no excuses and opened herself, selecting a specific image, a specific time, place, conversation.

"_You must be prepared to sacrifice the blinded one…" the old woman said, as though it were simply a natural conclusion. _

_A number of responses flashed through Tien's mind… Her first impulse was to flatly reject her mentor's 'suggestion.' The Miraluka was here for a reason, and Tien knew irrevocably that that reason was not to be sacrificed for anyone or anything. _

_But other, more diplomatic responses also wandered to the fore of her thoughts… responses that would not incur the old woman's verbal wrath... even garner her respect. Some impulse, completely ungraspable, made Tien want to ignore all about Kreia that she didn't trust—which was most of her. There was this inexplicable yearning to be respected by her master… Tien had asked for her counsel, her place was not to rebuke it. _

"_I see your point," she finally replied. "I will think on this…" Even that relatively noncommittal answer had made her feel wretched, but Kreia obviously approved, praising her shrewdness and ability to see the so-called bigger picture…_

Visas listened intently to the exchange, monitoring the conflict in Tien's soul as each option was weighed, each contingency examined. But why, she thought. Why feel one thing, then say another?

"It was a weakness," Tien ventured aloud, her voice penetrating Visas' mental haze as she continued to study the scene she had witnessed. "It still is, I suppose," she continued.

"If you learn anything from me, Visas, let it be this," Tien sighed and continued gently. "The future is never as clear as it seems. Perhaps the greatest challenge one can face is accepting that one will not be the same person tomorrow as she is today. You can be absolutely sure about something one moment, then have all of that certainty stripped away without warning.

"And the hardest part... the hardest part, is that with accepting this, you find yourself mourning the person you are today, this hour, this moment… knowing that that person will soon be lost… and you venture on not really knowing who you will be tomorrow. You realize that you may not like the person you become." She paused, debating whether or not to continue. She did so reluctantly. "At _that_ moment, I knew I could never… I could _never_ sacrifice you or any of my companions. But I also knew that, should the moment come, I might not make the same choice. The future is always in motion, and I could not know," Tien finished, her voice riddled with guilt and recrimination.

"One decision can change everything," Visas said, thinking aloud. "One diplomatic choice of words can actually open options that you had never before considered… make them more plausible. One moment can broaden your view of events in such a way that it changes the fabric of your philosophy."

Tien smiled warmly, if not reluctantly, gratified by her understanding.

"It would seem," Visas continued, "that the strength of one's character can be measured by her refusal to mourn. The weapon is the confidence, the unwavering knowledge, that change is a choice, and one's rebirth in every choice is an opportunity to change for the better."

Tien's smile grew and she reached out to grasp Visas' hand. "When did you become so wise?" she asked.

Visas merely gripped her hand tighter, relishing the feeling of calm and safety that was washing over her. It had been so, so long since she had felt so at ease, so truly at peace. Not since before her homeworld was destroyed. …_Ashes of Katarr…_

"I am a better person today than I was yesterday, Master Jedi. And I ask you to not forget your part in my salvation. I have not."

Tien nodded slowly. "And do not forget your part in mine," she whispered.

They sat in silence for a moment before Visas ventured forward again. "Was that all?"

"Hmm?" Tien replied. Visas took a cleansing breath.

"Kreia was important to you," she stated. It was not a question.

Tien had the grace to answer truthfully. "Yes, she was," she said softly, looking away from her companion.

"My Master was very important to me. I… was dependent upon him for… so much. I so loathed our… symbiosis. But I needed it as well. I hated him, but I… loved him. Desired his approval, as a daughter needs her father."

Visas looked at her mentor pointedly, her gaze penetrating Tien's emotional armor. She could almost hear the Jedi quietly counting Pazaak cards in her head as she attempted to bring her feelings back under control. Visas waited patiently.

Then an image flooded into her mind, pushing all other conscious thought out.

"_You are greater than any I have ever trained. By killing me here—you have rewarded me more than you can possibly know," Kreia said. _

_Tien shook her head. "Kreia, there is still time to save you."_

_Kreia smiled wryly. "Save me? You already have—it is enough what you have done, from now into the future."_

"_The future?" Tien asked. Kreia sighed. _

"_If it matters to you, now, at the end, I will look into the future and tell you what I see. It is my last gift to you, from one exile… to another."_

"_What will happen to my friends?" Tien asked. If this was the end, she would at least have the satisfaction of knowing…_

"_They were the Lost Jedi, you know. The true Jedi, upon which the future will be built. They simply needed a leader, and a teacher."_

_Kreia stood before her in the core of the Trayus Academy. Tien gripped the double-hilt of her lightsaber, taking a deep comfort in the feel of it. She tried to clear her mind, to focus, to filter out all of the doubt, the reluctance, the second-guesses. Kreia had to be stopped, and Tien had to be the one to do it. _

_But it smacked of the Sith. The whole thing… the apprentice was about to kill the master… then what would that make her? _

Her_ teacher was all but defeated… talking to her, telling her all she needed to hear… and Tien would kill her… she wouldn't be anywhere without the old woman, and now she was killing her… _

"…_Atton is, as always, the fool. And the Force watches out for ones such as him, I feel. As it does for ones such as I," Kreia had continued as Tien pondered the situation. She thought of Atton and of how far he had come… And Kreia still called him a fool…_

"_Did he love me?" Tien heard herself ask. Kreia laughed. _

"_He is a fool," she replied, her voice a cross between mirth and disdain. "And that should answer your questions. He has nothing to offer to one such as you—and even a fool such as Atton is not so ignorant of that fact."_

He's not a fool_, Tien thought. _And if he's a fool, then so am I…

_The Jedi shrugged her thoughts away, and focused on the now. "Did you love me?" she asked finally, softly. Kreia smiled._

"_I would have killed the galaxy to preserve you. I would have let the galaxy die. You are more precious than you know, and what you have taught yourself must not be lost." Kreia took a small, feeble step toward her, and Tien felt her heart go out to the woman. She scolded herself for her weakness, but she couldn't help it. _

"_You are not a Jedi," Kreia said, then. Tien looked at her, startled and shaken. Those words… that she had been working so hard to prove wrong… "Not truly. And it is for that that I love you."_

"You still cling to her," Visas said.

Tien sighed. "It's like that… bond that we had. It's still there, tying me to her. And I can't cut myself away. I… _wanted_, so desperately… to please her…"

"Perhaps you _will _not cut yourself away… your _ability_ is not in question."

"I haven't ruled that out," the Jedi whispered.

"You _can_."

Tien nodded. "But it would be easier if she was wrong."

The comm system beeped and T3 whirred into the dormitory, twittering excitedly about entering the Taris system. Tien looked over at Visas. Her head was raised and her mouth was tight. Tien knew this conversation wasn't over.

"We're here. I have to—"

Visas nodded. Tien got up and followed T3 to the cockpit.

* * *

"We have been monitoring traffic and communications surrounding Citadel Station as you have ordered, Mistress."

The voice of one of her Echani handmaidens barely overcame the hissing of the Sith holocrons surrounding her. Atris opened her eyes.

"And?" she asked, letting the comm speaker system pick up her voice.

"Two ships matching the physical descriptions of two Czerka freighters that were abandoned on Citadel Station have been granted departure clearance. If these are the two Czerka ships, their identification signatures have been altered. The vessels _Blue Moon_ and _Freelance_ are not in any of the Coreward Czerka registries."

"Are we still monitoring these vessels?" Atris asked, rising from her meditative position in the center of her chamber and moving toward the computer terminal near the substantial door. She called up all available charts for ship routes in the Telos system.

"Yes, Mistress. They have not yet jumped to hyperspace and are still in sensor range."

"Observe them for as long as possible and give me a report on their flight paths. I want to know where those ships are going."

Atris examined the charts carefully, loading the last known trajectory of the _Ebon Hawk_, which they had also monitored leaving the system. The Force flowed freely from these two ships and she felt a deep connection between the freighters and the Exile. Parren's followers were not ready to disentangle themselves from her yet, that much was obvious.

"_Revan knew the secrets of the Ancient Sith… and should the Exile follow her path, she too will surpass even you in knowledge of the dark ways."_

Atris shook the soft, unbidden, remembered sound of the old woman's voice from her mind, but only the whispering of the Sith holocrons replaced it. The memory of Kreia's visit to her as the _Ravager _had closed in on Telos hounded her even now, weeks later.

"_What you have hoarded in this place is but a fraction of the wealth of knowledge and power that now sleep in the Unknown Regions."_

The voices of the holocrons and the old woman became one.

Kreia had foreseen this. Had known of Atris' own betrayal, of her cravings for revenge, for power… and her knowledge that the Sith held that power…

_The old woman was not deterred by the massive doors shielding Atris from the rest of the polar academy. They seemed to open before her, bowing and scraping as she passed into the Jedi Master's chamber. But Atris did not fight, nor even discourage Kreia's entry. A growing part of her… welcomed her. _

"Summon the last of your sisters to my meditation chamber; I wish to speak with her," she spoke into the comm.

"_There must always be a Darth Traya—one who knows betrayal well," said the old woman. Atris shivered slightly at the implication, even fully knowing the truth for what it was. She nodded silently. "You have only to admit it."_

_A sudden burst of rage swelled within her as an image long burned into her memory consumed her—the Exile, those years ago in the Council Chamber. Atris felt for the Jedi's old lightsaber on her belt beside her own—the constant reminder of the pain she had caused. Parren had been the enemy even then… the one who had done what Atris had not the courage to do… And Atris so hated her for it… _

_And Atris found that her admission was all but hanging in the air, written all over her feelings. _

_The dark side had crept into her so slowly and penetrated so deeply, she had not even consciously seen it. But now, she embraced it, shirking the veil of pretense that had comforted her for so long. _

"_You will face the Exile," Kreia continued, satisfied that the battle raging within Atris was finally decided. Atris—Darth Traya—knew this to be true. _

"_And she will fall," Atris whispered with some emotion akin to twisted anticipation and delight at the prospect. _

"_No!" Kreia's soft, stern voice echoed like a bomb blast through the chamber and Atris turned immediately to face her. No?_

"_The Exile will not fall in battle this day—neither at your feet nor anyone else's," Kreia continued. Atris' eyes narrowed. The Lord of Hunger was in orbit even now... if the Exile could defeat him... Atris crushed the thought. No... she would not be denied her revenge.  
_

"_You will not deprive me of my right, old woman," she warned. Kreia smiled. _

"_I would not think of it," replied the old woman. "But consider this—what you have hoarded in this place is but a fraction of the wealth of knowledge and power that wait in the Unknown Regions."_

"_I'm listening."_

"_Revan knew the secrets of the Ancient Sith… and should the Exile follow her path, she too will surpass even you in knowledge of the dark ways," Kreia intoned suggestively. _

"_Why are you telling me this, old woman?"_

"_Perhaps I wish to persuade you to let the Exile live so that she may kill you… perhaps I taunt you with this, knowing that all of that knowledge will soon be worthless… or maybe I tell you this out of the… kindness… of my heart."_

"_Only one of us will survive… if the Exile defeats me in battle, she will not let me live," Atris countered. "There will be no one alive to run your fool's errand."_

_Kreia smiled. "Oh, the Exile will not destroy you, Atris. Do not trouble yourself over that. You will wish her to kill you, but she will not. This one believes in redemption."_

"_And in that belief, she would be mistaken," Atris replied._

"Yes, Mistress. I will send for her immediately," the Handmaiden replied over the comm. The plan was shaping up nicely. Atris thought for a moment on the old woman's role and decided that Kreia had not told her anything she had not already known. Kreia had never believed Atris would have this opportunity. Kreia had told her of Revan's mission believing the former Jedi Master would be too dead to act on her information--either by the hand of the Exile or as a result of Kreia's own plans.

The old woman had been wrong about a great many things. Atris smiled.

"And prepare my ship. I depart within the hour," she said.

"Yes, Mistress."

The comm channel closed and Darth Traya turned toward the center of her meditation chamber, the soft, deep voices of the holocrons filling her mind and wrapping around her, energizing her.

"HK-51," she said. A chrome-plated droid seemed to materialize from the shadows of an alcove along one of the room's high walls. The sound of a disruptor rifle being cocked filled the cavernous room.

"Query: Does my Mistress wish someone terminated?" sang the feminine, metallic droid voice.

Atris generally despised androids, but even she had to admit that she was warming up to this one. This droid was unique—a special order she had placed when she'd heard its predecessors were dispatched after the Exile. Her own personal tool… like so many others in the galaxy so needing of her leadership…

"All in good time, HK-51."

* * *

tbc... 


	6. Chapter 6

Phew… Okay, guys… Now, I gotta say… I don't think this chapter's my best work, and it's definitely subject to editing later on. But I finally got this much done and I wanted to share it and let folks know that I am actually still alive and still working on this. :) Thanks for all the great feedback! (more a/n's at the end) Please r&r. I need all the help I can get. I promise a more substantive chapter by the end of the week. It's spring break… I finally have some _time_! Yay!

Not mine. Not getting any money. Please don't sue.

* * *

Mission Vao stared blankly at the datapad in her hands, the words on it coming in and out of focus. She yawned. The lights in her small 'office' flickered then went out all together. Again. Mission yawned and picked her hand torch up off the surface of her 'desk', which was really just a propped-up, relatively flat scrap of durasteel with datapads, medkids, and power cells piled up on top of it. And of course, her hand torch, which was always handy. The generators they'd been able to piece together were unreliable at best and practically useless at worst. They'd actually had a fairly good run there, for a while. Two whole days since the last outage.

Her commink twittered—she pulled it out of her pocket before whoever was on the other end could get a single word in. "I'm not blind, I know the power's out again. There's nothing I can do about it—"

"I—I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you asked to be notified if anything… noteworthy happened," came the voice on the other end. She knew the voice, if not the name. It was the kid in charge of monitoring long-range communications. They were in contact with other small pockets of survivors across the planet, but the array the Republic had set them up with was also capable of picking up signals in orbit. Notable… had the Republic finally sent them some more help? Maybe?

"What's happened?" she asked, her voice more subdued. She regretted snapping… a little.

"There's a ship… they're requesting permission to land. The pilot asked for you, specifically, Ma'am." Mission's brow furrowed. Who would ask for _her_?

"Do we have an ID on the ship?"

"Yes, Ma'am. They've identified themselves as the _Ebon Hawk_."

Mission's breath stopped short. "Revan?" she wondered.

"Ma'am?" The voice on the other end prompted.

"Sorry… sorry. Just thinking out loud. Give them the coordinates for the landing station. I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied. Revan was back? How long had it been?

For the first time in a long time, Mission actually felt like smiling.

* * *

The landing pad was little more than a dirt patch cleared of rubble on the planet's surface. Tien had been to Taris before, several months before she'd gone to war. The Taris she saw now seemed prehistoric in comparison. The mile-high buildings had been razed almost to the ground over much of the planet, just leaving piles of durasteel and permacrete where they used to stand. The last time she was here, she'd actually forgotten that somewhere far beneath her feet, was an actual dirt planetary surface.

Now, for the first time in a millennium, sunlight was reaching the _ground._

Malak's attack on Taris had been different from the one on Telos. For one thing, there was not nearly as much biological and chemical contamination of the planet. Telos was a world full of life, thriving with vegetation and animal life. Telos was still remarkably pastoral and about as different from Taris as it could be. Malak had been careful to destroy the _life_ on Telos, and knew exactly how to salt the earth to do just that.

Taris' life was found almost solely in its sentient inhabitants. Its very blood was the people filling the massive structures of the planet-wide city.

In Taris' case, more conventional means of destruction were more than adequate.

General Parren stepped gently from the ramp of the _Ebon Hawk_ to the dusty ground of the 'landing pad,' surveying the damage with a soldier's eye and overcome by the sheer silence of the place. The only substantial sound she could hear was that of Visas' footsteps on the ramp behind her and T3's motors a meter behind the Miraluka.

A feeling, almost like a gust of wind, crept up the back of her neck. Tien resisted the urge to pull her double-bladed sword from its sheath on her back and instead slowly turned toward the slight tremor in the Force. A Cathar female stood in the shadows beneath a column of twisted durasteel, just watching her. Tien was about to take a step toward the woman, but stopped when a blue-tinted Twi'lek female, not more than 20 years old, appeared beside her, two impressively modified blasters drawn.

"What have you done with Revan?" the Twi'lek growled through gritted teeth. Tien could detect a wave of anger and fear positively emanating from her. She heard Visas activate her lightsaber, and quickly put a hand up to still her.

"No, Visas," she said quietly without looking back at her companion. Visas lowered her blade, but did not deactivate it. Tien put her hands up in surrender.

"I haven't done anything with Revan. I'm looking for her, and was told she came here," Tien called to the Twi'lek at the edge of the clearing, several meters away. The Twi'lek didn't budge, only stepped closer to the strangers, her intensity growing.

"The fact that you're flying _her_ ship tells me otherwise, lady."

T3 warbled something about his sensors picking up a dozen more life signs surrounding the area. So the Twi'lek had friends. But he didn't stop warbling. He knew these two women, he twittered, almost cheerfully.

"What?" Tien asked the droid, shifting her eyes to see what he was doing without moving so much as to alarm the wielders of the now many blasters pointed at them. T3's motors started whirring and he passed right by her, moving toward the Twi'lek. "T3!" she shouted halfheartedly. It wasn't like he was going to listen to her anyway. "Oh, for the love of…" she trailed off, mumbling. This was not turning out to be as easy as she'd thought.

On the bright side, though, the Twi'lek was lowering her weapons. Tien looked around and saw that the rest of the mini-militia that had shown up was following their leader and doing the same. She slowly and cautiously lowered her hands, but didn't move from her spot beside the ship.

T3 was having quite the involved conversation with the Twi'lek and the Cathar, who would occasionally glance up at Tien and Visas before going back to listening to the droids excited tweets.

Finally, the Twi'lek holstered her blasters altogether. Tien sighed and heard Visas close down her blade and re-clip it to her belt. "One disaster averted," Visas noted. Tien just nodded.

* * *

Atton sat on the deck of the main hold of the _Freelance_, his eyes closed and his breathing still and controlled. He tried to still his thoughts, but his thoughts would not cooperate. He'd been sitting here meditating for two hours, and felt no better for it.

At least the Disciple was leaving him alone for the moment.

As soon as the Disciple told them that Onasi had _two_ small freighters for them, Atton had had a sinking feeling that he'd be sharing a cramped space with the ex-soldier for a while. Atton knew exactly where he would be going, and had been pretty sure the Disciple felt the same way. And, of course, despite the protests of Mira and Bao-Dur, the two men had gotten their way. Mira and Bao-Dur had taken HK-47 in the other ship to Nar Shadaa, while Atton and the Disciple had steered the _Freelance_ toward Taris.

The Sentinel's thoughts were disjointed, even haunting, and growing more so the longer he sat there. He concentrated on the hum of the ship, then, all at once, everything seemed to shift into remarkable focus.

_The _Leviathan's_ engines hummed gently beneath his feet as he made his way toward the barracks. _

"_Sir!" someone shouted behind him. He turned to see a grunt soldier chasing after him down the corridor, leaden down with the whole Sith armor array. Poor guy, he thought, momentarily taking pride… and comfort… in his own simple, black combat suit. _

_Hey, it wasn't _his_ fault he had talent… _

"_Yeah, what is it?" he replied. The soldier stopped a few steps in front of him and saluted. He rolled his eyes, but returned the gesture, never having been one to stand on ceremony. _

"_Lieutenant Rand?" _

"_Yes…" he replied, warily. Anytime anyone around her wanted to know his name, it always meant a mission of some sort, and he'd only just gotten back…_

"_Sir, Admiral Karath wanted to see you. He said it was urgent."_

_Karath… the new fleet commander. Must be important if such a big wig cared about talking to a lowlife like him…_

Atton's eyes snapped open. Where had _that_ memory come from? He wasn't that person anymore… that part of him was dead…

"_Ah, Lieutenant. I'm glad you're here," Karath proclaimed. "I have a task for someone with your… exceptional talents…"_

Atton stood abruptly, shaking his head as if to physically clear his mind. He turned, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, like a caged animal.

"Whoa!" exclaimed the Disciple, reflexively twisting his upper body to shield the two cups in his hands as Atton nearly ran into him. Atton stopped himself, just before plowing the other man over.

"Dammit! What the—will you watch where you're going!" Atton shouted, before he could stop himself. He was shaking, but hadn't noticed. The Disciple's eyes widened in surprise at Atton's outburst, and Atton immediately regretted it. "I'm… damn, I'm sorry… I didn't mean…" he amended, and the Disciple's composure returned. He offered the other man one of the cups of caffa he was holding.

"Here," he said. Atton glanced at the Disciple, almost suspicious of his act of kindness, but took it, offering a small smile of gratitude. Where Atton had, moments ago, valued his solitude, suddenly he was very happy to not be alone. Even if he was stuck with this guy for company.

"Thanks," he said, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip. It was bitterer than he liked, but he didn't say anything. The Disciple nodded.

"No problem," he said, taking a seat on the floor next to where Atton had been meditating. There were chairs in the hold, but Czerka had apparently not taken a lot of interest in the comfort of its shipping crews. Truth be told, the floor was just more comfortable. "Want to talk about it?" the Disciple asked, finally, after a moment of silence between the two. He took a sip of his caffa while he waited for a response.

"Nope," Atton replied succinctly. He looked over at the Disciple who was decidedly unsurprised.

"Well, it was worth a try…" the Disciple said with a shrug. Atton smirked.

"Not really," he replied offhandedly.

The Disciple rolled his eyes and turned away, taking a few steps toward the cockpit before pausing. Atton looked up over his cup as the other man slowly turned around, his forehead wrinkled in frustration. The Disciple took a deep breath and ran a hand through his blond hair, stalling as he tried to figure out what to say.

"Look," he finally settled on the tried and true attention grabber. "I know we haven't always agreed on everything… we probably both figured that once we finished what we set out to do, we'd both be out of each other's hair."

Atton nodded his assent and half-sat, half-leaned on a nearby console dash, crossing his arms, while still maintaining his ability to casually sip his caffa. He had the feeling that he was in for a full-fledged conversation here, and seeing as he couldn't exactly pop out to the nearest cantina, he committed himself to listening.

Truth be told, the only thing that had really kept him from listening to and even liking the Disciple was his own stubbornness. And he _was_ trying to… grow up.

"Well, obviously, we were both wrong about that, so do you think maybe we could work together here without stepping on each other's toes? We're both adults—Jedi. It really can't be that hard…"

"What's your name?" Atton interrupted. The Disciple shot him a surprised look.

"What?" he said. Atton pushed off of the dash and took a step toward his comrade. He smiled wryly, shaking his head.

"You know, for all your talk about working together and common causes and blah blah blah, you sure need to work on your cooperation skills. It's not like we just met, you know. And you didn't even tell Tien. How come? What have you got to hide, pal?" Atton said, all the while keeping a smile on his face. While he'd never actually show it, he was trying to be diplomatic. He completely agreed with the Disciple's assessment of their rather unique situation, and had no intention of putting him off. Force help him, he liked the guy.

But he'd never show it.

"I…" The Disciple was truly confused. He shuffled through his memories, absolutely certain it'd come up at one point or another. But he came up empty. Of all the stupid things to forget… He shook his head and let out a huff of laughter. "Mical. It's Mical. I… guess it just never came up. I'm sorry." He shrugged.

"Well, at least we know you have one now…" Atton replied. He put out his hand and Mical grasped it. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Mical replied.

* * *

"I've never really been in a position to use credits like this before… I don't know… it kinda feels like… cheating… somehow…" Mira sighed. Bao-Dur glanced at her briefly as he paid the dock owner. Mira pulled her simple brown jacket tighter around her torso as some small defense against the wind gusts at this altitude. The Echani light battle armor she wore beneath it might be great for slowing down blaster bolts, but it wasn't very warm.

Having completed his transaction, the Zabrak technician rejoined his companion at the base of the _Blue Moon's _ramp. He smiled.

"Come on, Mira. Admit it… it feels good to not worry about it, doesn't it?"

Mira rolled her eyes and tried very hard not to smile. Bao-Dur nudged her with his elbow and she caved, breaking out into a shy grin.

"Yeah…" she said, finally. "But don't tell anybody. I've got a reputation to protect."

"My lips are sealed," he replied.

"Statement: Ah, the meatbag preoccupation with monetary satisfaction. Suggestion: Perhaps you should try appreciating the more simple aspects of existence."

"Like what, HK?" Bao-Dur chuckled, closing the ship's hatch as the droid stepped onto the landing platform, almost tenderly cradling his Heavy Repeating Carbine.

"Query: Is that a rhetorical question?" the droid replied, regarding the two "meatbags" appraisingly. Mira and Bao-Dur glanced at each other. Mira shook her head.

"Better not ask…" she whispered. "Knowing him the 'simple aspects of existence' involve semi-automatic weaponry."

"Point taken," Bao-Dur answered. "Forget it, HK."

The trio made their way from the windy landing platform into the Refugee Sector, walking briskly and with purpose, even though they really had no idea how they were going to proceed with their mission. They knew what they were here to do, but no one was laboring under the illusion that it would be easy. They decided to take a few hours and stretch their legs before setting the arduous work of negotiating with a very rich, very vengeful Hutt on behalf of an entire world dependent upon said negotiations for its very survival.

If that wasn't pressure, Mira didn't know what was.

This was the first time she'd been back on Nar Shadaa for more than a couple of hours since Tien had shown her the Force. They passed by the entrance to the Entertainment Sector and a chill ran down Mira's spine.

"Are you alright?" Bao-Dur asked her softly. Mira smiled.

"Yeah… I'm fine," she replied. She was still so weak in the Force, but she could certainly… _feel_ it. Maybe it was just being back on Nar Shadaa… maybe she was really getting stronger… or maybe it was just her imagination. But she felt so much more alive than she'd ever felt before… so much more complete. She was bursting to share how she felt, but restrained herself. _She_ could barely understand it—she felt funny asking Bao-Dur to.

"Does it feel strange? Being home?" Bao-Dur asked. Mira looked up at him as they walked at a relaxed pace, then checked behind her, gratified to see HK-47 occupied primarily with the business of the pedestrians they passed. The droid had eventually moved past being suspicious of their own little group and had recently become more interested in watching for outside opportunities for bloodshed. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to their conversation, at any rate.

"Strange? No… just different, I guess. It's like… have you ever had a day where nothing seemed quite real? You knew where you went and what you did, but it was all surreal and… off? Try feeling like your whole life has been like that, and then suddenly you drink a liter of caffa and the fog clears and you feel wide awake for the first time in as long as you can remember."

"Hmm."

Mira stopped and glared at Bao-Dur's back for a second before he realized she wasn't next to him anymore. He stopped and looked back. "What?"

"_Hmm_?" That's all you can say? I'm… I'm… _pouring_ my heart out and all you can—"

Before she could finish her thought, he stepped toward her and grabbed her arm lightly but with an unmistakable force pulling her in the direction of the swoop garage and out of the more dense foot traffic of the main walkway. They were being followed.

"HK, I think you should head back to the ship," he said quietly and without looking back at the following droid. HK complied without argument.

* * *

a/n

Snackfiend, Kosiah, Red Mage- Many thanks for the info. For what it's worth, this chapter is dedicated to you guys. :)

Darkgirl- "wallowing in her own insanity." Wow. I just loved that! Mind if I use that sometime? And thanks so much for the encouragement.

Becky- Thank you!

Thanks for your patience everybody. Please keep up the honesty. I'm shooting for another update by the end of the week. Thank God it's Spring Break!


	7. Chapter 7

Not mine, no money, please don't sue.

Okay, kids. I promised something substantive by the end of the week. Hope this does it for ya for a little bit. :) And I'll make another promise: some _action_ is totally coming up, I swear. So stay tuned.

More a/n at the end…

* * *

"Get up here, Mr. Meditation. We got a problem," Atton spoke into the comm, his voice a great deal more controlled than he expected it to be. 

The sensors were right. The _Freelance_ dropped out of hyperspace.

"What is it?" The Disciple asked as he entered the cockpit. Atton barely turned around to regard him and just caught the sight of his sitting down in the co-pilot's seat out of the corner of his eye.

"We just got forced out of light speed. Sensors picked up some interference a minute ago, and now it seems we've run afoul of an interdictor field. But you know, other than that, things are terrific."

Mical rolled his eyes. "Do you think it's possible that this is just a coincidence?" he asked.

Atton shook his head. "What kind of weapons have we got on this thing?" the pilot asked. Mical glanced at him before turning his attention to the console in front of him.

"Not much. This ship was never intended for combat. I only see…" Mical sighed dejectedly, "A remote turret with minimal power, a dual-blaster manned turret, and not a torpedo bay to speak of."

The two men looked at each other as the hull of a large cruiser filled their view, blocking out the stars. It was flanked by a small—but twice the size of the _Freelance_—freighter.

"Maybe we should have thought this through a little better," Atton said pointedly. The Disciple smirked.

"_Unidentified vessel, prepare to be boarded."_ The disembodied male voice was stern and filled with irritation and ire. He didn't seem to like them, Atton mused.

Atton closed his eyes and shook his head. "This day just keeps getting better and better…" he trailed off. He opened his eyes with renewed focus and tightened his grip on the manual stick. "This is the freighter _Freelance_. Who gave you the idea that you're getting anywhere _near_ this ship?" Atton glanced over at Mical and nodded toward the back of the cockpit, motioning him to man the turret. He nodded and slid out of his seat and toward the turret's access way in the middle of the ship.

Alone in the cockpit again, Atton took a deep breath.

"_All ships passing through this region are subject to searches, _Freelance. _No exceptions."_

"Searches for what?" Atton mumbled to himself. The smaller freighter accompanying the cruiser was starting to appear more and more out of place. If it had been stopped for the same reason, it would either be docked, tractored, or getting out of here as fast as it could. He was starting to get a very bad feeling that things were about to get really fun.

"_Do we have a plan, Atton?"_ Mical asked, his voice sounded tinny and breathless through the comm.

"I don't _know_, do we?" Atton snapped, then changed his tone. "Unidentified bully, I'm afraid we're not going to be able to comply with that little _search_ directive of yours. So why don't you shut off that interdictor field, and we'll just be on our way," he answered the irritated man on the comm. He cringed, knowing full well that he was asking for trouble, but somehow unable to resist…

"_Very suave,"_ Mical said, listening in on the comm traffic.

"I thought so," Atton answered rather absently. His attention was suddenly drawn to the freighter coming to bear on the _Freelance._ Sensors showed it was readying weapons. A small flight of Sith fighters flooded out of one of the hangars.

Atton turned in his chair and shouted into the ship. "You ready up there?" he yelled. Before he could get a reply, the freighter opened fire and Mical volleyed back with some blaster bolts of his own.

"Guess so," Atton murmured, thumbing the remote controls of the other turret. He tried to steer away from the capital ship, but the freighter and the fighters that came out to play kept him boxed in. Mical kept firing almost faster than the power banks could recharge, and Atton found himself abandoning the remote turret controls in favor of concentrating on evasive maneuvers.

Buzzers started going off in the cockpit. "Damn it…" Atton breathed. Shields were down. The ship bucked and shuddered and the stick jumped out of his hands. He was no longer in control of the ship.

Atton's head fell back and he took a deep breath, letting his hands fall over the arms of the chair. The Disciple was still firing.

"Hey, Mical…" Atton said cheerfully. The rain of blaster bolts from the _Freelance_ came to an abrupt stop.

"_Tractor beam?"_

"Yup," the scoundrel replied emphatically. The cruiser was becoming bigger and bigger.

"Any idea who our gracious hosts might be?" The Disciple asked casually as he entered the cockpit and sat down in the co-pilot's chair.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough." The _Freelance_ cleared the docking bay doors and was guided to a rest in an unknown hangar.

* * *

Juhani eyed the Exile warily from across the room. She and the Miraluka were sitting at a table near the corner, picking at their rations. Juhani took another bite of her own nutrition bar without even blinking.

"Wow. I didn't think it was possible, but I think you are _actually_ being more paranoid than usual, today," Mission said, setting her tray down across from Juhani and interrupting her line of sight. The Cathar woman sighed, unable to ignore her blue friend. Mission disregarded her irritation. "I thought you'd be happy. More Jedi… you know, like… kindred spirits or something. And you thought they were all dead…"

"They are not Jedi," Juhani said simply, before taking another big bite of her bar, peeling the wrapper back another couple of centimeters.

"What do you mean? T3 said—"

"Do you believe everything droids tell you, Mission?" she asked. Mission gawped at her.

"He wouldn't lie to us…" she replied, her expression now dead serious. "And you said it yourself, 'Unusually strong in the Force," Mission imitated Juhani's accent with uncanny accuracy.

"Yes, they are. But that does not automatically mean 'Jedi.' I know that woman," she said, pointing in Tien's general direction with the remains of her nutrition bar. "Tien Parren followed Revan and Malak to fight in the Mandalorian Wars. She was the only Jedi to return to the Council for judgment, and I've heard it said that when she returned, she had lost her connection to the Force. She was exiled from the Order. It would appear, however, than she has regained her commune with the Force, which is… unusual."

"So, not _technically _a Jedi…" Mission mumbled. Juhani continued unfazed by her friend's denial.

"The other… I believe she is a Miraluka. Her kind is unique now, having been wiped out by the Sith at the end of the Jedi Civil War. I did not know there were any still alive…"

"Miraluka?" Mission asked. Juhani looked at her.

"Their entire race was force-sensitive. Their worlds produced many Jedi, and this one has certainly undergone training. But I sense the touch of the dark side within them both. It is unsettling."

"You think they're Sith?"

Juhani shook her head. "No. But the taint is there. They have both been touched profoundly by the dark side, though how I can't be certain. But… _within_ them… no, I sense no malice from them. There is… pain, sadness, guilt. But no malice."

"So what's the problem?" Mission pried. Juhani just shook her head, not really having a satisfactory answer. Mission shrugged and turned to her tray of field rations with disgust, but stuck her fork into a semi-solid pile of… brown… and lifted it to her mouth, glancing at Juhani every few seconds and trying to be covert about it. The Jedi tried gallantly to ignore her.

Mission grinned, always taking a perverse pleasure in making Juhani squirm. It felt like an accomplishment.

She pushed her chair away from the table, the metal legs scraping against the permacrete floor loudly. Juhani's head shot up and she glared at the Twi'lek, who smirked at her. Mission stood and grabbed her tray, making ready to walk away.

"What are you doing?" Juhani asked, her voice low and full of suspicion.

"I'm going to go talk to her, what's it look li—" Mission completed her turn only to see the Exile gone. The Miraluka was alone at their table. Mission shivered, an inexplicable wave of uncertainty washing over her. She turned back to Juhani, "Where'd she—"

But Juhani was gone too.

"Damned Jedi," she mumbled. Mission steeled herself and strode purposefully toward the Miraluka, shirking her dread. She was uneasy about this woman, no matter what she'd said to Juhani to try and stick up for the newcomers. She gave Mission a funny feeling… almost like she was intimidated by the alien. Maybe it was the veil… She couldn't see her eyes, couldn't read her expression.

"Hi," Mission said cheerfully when she arrived at the table. The other woman raised her head as if to size Mission up, but said nothing. Mission continued undaunted. "It's Visas, right?"

"Yes," Visas replied hesitantly.

Mission stood for a moment waiting to be invited to sit down, before it occurred to her that whatever Jedi training she had must not have included the finer points of navigating social situations. "Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked. Visas looked uneasily around the room, probably trying to find Tien—or the nearest exit. Mission heard her sigh softly in defeat.

"No."

Mission took a deep breath and set her tray down on the table. "You're not very talkative, are you?" She asked.

Visas shook her head. Mission got the distinct impression that she was trying to be ironic.

Mission grinned. "Where'd your friend go?" she continued. Visas looked around again.

"I do not know," she answered. "She merely excused herself. I am sure she will return shortly if you wish to speak with her."

That had been Mission's plan, but plans change. She shrugged. "Maybe later."

* * *

Tien walked quietly through what passed for streets on the surface of Taris, her short hair whipping around her face in the gale-force winds whistling through the wreckage of the city. She raised her hood to fight the wind before turning around to face the woman following her.

"Hello," she said simply. The Cathar woman paused before stepping nearer to Tien, then crossed her arms over her chest and approached.

"My name is Juhani," said the woman. Tien nodded.

"I know. I… well, I was once friends with Quatra. A long time ago. I remember seeing you with her on Dantooine." Tien resumed her walk, sauntering almost lazily if only to keep the cold from the wind at bay. Juhani caught up with her and matched her pace. "I suppose you know who I am, or you would have asked already."

Juhani nodded. "Yes, I know who you are. And I was wondering—why have you returned?"

Tien glanced over at her companion to gauge her face, wondering of the ulterior motives she might have in asking such a loaded question. Juhani caught her intention and answered her outright.

"Really, I am mostly just curious. I would not imagine that you are here on vacation." Juhani smirked and Tien couldn't help but smile.

"No… definitely not here on vacation."

"Then what is it?" Juhani continued. "I… have felt great stirrings… disturbances in the Force. And you have this sense of great urgency about you. Purpose."

"And I've been exiled by the Order, you mean?" Tien burst in. The Cathar was not surprised.

"Yes. There is that."

"Why would an exile return, knowing the cold reception that would await her? Believe me, Juhani, it was not my choice. Every day I wonder about how things would have been different if only I'd done a better job of hiding myself," the Exile mused, a slight sting of resentment in her voice.

"I had heard that you lost your connection to the Force during the Mandalorian Wars… yet here you are. I know you can hear it again. Surely, that cannot be regrettable."

Tien shook her head and snorted a laugh. "Honestly," she paused, pondering her next words very carefully. "Juhani, if I may tell you something… I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did to cut myself off from the Force years ago. I've lain awake at night, closing my eyes, and trying to _will_ myself into reproducing it, and I can't."

"Why? Why would you want that?" Juhani asked softly. They stopped.

"Because I'm not a Jedi. Not anymore—not for a long time."

"You are only what you believe yourself to be. Nothing more, nothing less," Juhani countered. Tien smiled.

"I knew you were going to say something like that."

"How?"

"Because you _are_ a Jedi. And that was a perfectly 'Jedi' thing to say," Tien replied. Juhani nodded.

"I did not just _say_ it. I do mean it."

"I know you do, Juhani. And I've said things just like it since coming back and meant them, too. I… I know you mean well, I'm just—"

"Exiling yourself now in mind and spirit, if not in body?" Juhani interrupted. Tien's eyes snapped up. "_Why_ are you here?" Juhani asked again.

"I told Mission already. I'm trying to find Revan."

"But _why_?"

"Because…" Tien trailed off. Why _was_ she following Revan? She knew the obvious answer—because of the so-called great evil she had gone off to fight. But dare she go deeper? Might there really be something to this destiny thing? It was the _right_ thing, she knew. Evil had to be stopped and somehow, she _knew_ she could do it.

But when had this whole thing gone from stopping the Sith who were after her and the Jedi to saving the galaxy? Just when _had_ she slipped back into being a Jedi? Into doing the right thing just because it was right? When had she slipped back into her old life without even realizing it?

"Because you _are_ a _Jedi_?" Juhani asked after some silence.

Tien looked at her pointedly. "Maybe…" Juhani smiled. They walked in silence for a few minutes, walking lazily as if there were no worries in the world.

"If you do not bring Revan back, I hope you realize that Mission will never forgive you. Since Zaalbar left, she has been completely consumed by her work. Then, when she saw the _Ebon Hawk_, it was like she was, for a moment, full of life again. Revan was like a sister to her," Juhani mentioned casually.

"_Just… tell her that Carth Onasi is waiting for her." _

"And she was a mentor to _me_. She saved me," continued Juhani, almost wistfully. Tien looked at her carefully.

"This isn't just about fighting the ancient Sith, is it?" she asked cautiously.

Juhani shrugged. "Paths cross and diverge for reasons, Tien. It is… truly amazing the impact one life can have on another, on billions. Perhaps it is your destiny to cross paths with Revan, as perhaps it is her destiny to find her way back to ours. The map is already drawn, you only need to follow it."

* * *

HK-51 monitored the readings from the probe droids carefully, whilst maintaining a perfect orbit around Taris' second moon. It had not been difficult to hone in on the Exile's location, as the sentient population of the planet had been decimated. Of the mere several thousand people still alive there, only one had a ship recently touch down.

Even powered down, the signature of the _Ebon Hawk _was recognizable to such a skilled model as HK-51. She was a top of the line assassination droid, with the newest tracking hardware available.

If she wasn't a droid, she was quite sure she would have every right to be smug.

Probe 17-A was currently monitoring the area directly surrounding the _Ebon Hawk's_ coordinates. HK-51 sifted effortlessly through the information it transmitted back, and instantly translated the information from it recording module into binary which she programmed into a holovid.

The transfer of 19.8 standard minutes of audio and video data was completed in .046 seconds within a ±.5 percent degradation variance.

Yes, 'smug' would be exactly the right word.

* * *

Darkgirl and loopylass—You know, until you guys said something, I had Mira and Bao-Dur's partnership as totally platonic. And then ya'll had to say something and the bunnies started hopping. Very intriguing idea. (and you can blame Foxfire for perpetuating it. :wink:) We'll see, won't we… Also, I too, hope the Atton/Disciple snark doesn't end… but I think I'm interested to see how the Disciple manages to defend himself. Walking target, or even match? Haven't decided yet which one's more fun. :)

Snackfiend—'interesting' is always an intriguing word… may I continue to pique your interest. Thanks.

Red Mage—I would love to crawl into your head when you're writing a review. :) Thanks for always letting me know that you're still reading.

Kristin—I think one of the highest compliments I could get is that the reader can 'hear' the character in her head while reading. I'm glad you like it so far!

Foxfire—Baby, you rock! Thanks for all the great help, and the very generous offer to beta. I promise you I'll take you up on it! (Still working on revising chapter 6. :grin:) Thanks again.

>You guys give such great feedback! Thanks for all the constructive criticism. I swear, I don't take it personally and I take everything to heart, so please, keep it coming! Things can only get better. Man, I want to send you all presents… :) Thanks.

Also, Mira and Bao-Dur will appear at length in the next chapter. I'm not being biased, I just ran out of time and space. Next installment, guys. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Stuff from the games not mine, original story and characters are, not makin' any bank either way. Peace.

* * *

Bao-Dur glanced at Mira covertly, trying to ignore the nose of the blaster rifle poking into his back. He resisted the urge to turn around and slug the little Rodian carrying it. Barely. If he took out that one Rodian, the other seven bounty hunters would likely not hesitate to shoot them both. Beside him, Mira eyed the Transdoshan holding a blaster to her head as they walked briskly toward the Docks. 

"Wow," she said loudly enough for the whole merry band to hear. Bao-Dur threw a warning look at her which she blissfully ignored. She grinned brightly. "I don't know about you, but I'm really flattered. I mean… sending such a talented, well-armed party of blood-sucking mercs just to catch poor, defenseless us. Really, guys," she made a show of twisting to look at the majority of their captors. Bao-Dur's Rodian responded by digging his blaster deeper into the Zabrak's back. He cringed. "I'm touched," Mira concluded. Her Transdoshan friend patiently let her finish her rant before striking her squarely to the side of the head.

She stumbled heavily and Bao-Dur reflexively moved to catch her before she hit the ground. Her head lolled against his arm, but her eyes were open. "Mira…" he hissed. She blinked hard.

"Sorry," she whispered. He pulled her to her feet.

"It's okay, Mira," he answered softly. A blaster bolt singed the ground at his feet. Bao-Dur steadied his friend and looked back at a smirking human bounty hunter who was obviously getting impatient.

"I'm alright," she said softly. Mira looked at him pointedly and he nodded, holding onto her arm for the first few steps as they started to move again. Bao-Dur's Jedi friend managed to sneer at the Transdoshan. Bao-Dur shook his head. She just wouldn't quit…

They crossed the threshold into Vogga the Hutt's 'offices' and were herded unceremoniously into the slug's illustrious presence. Bao-Dur regarded Vogga and silently willed Mira to keep her mouth shut.

His hopes were, of course, in vain.

"Red-maned Huntress," Vogga growled in Huttese. "I am surprised to see you are still alive."

"You shouldn't be," Mira answered. The crime lord laughed heartily.

"Perhaps."

"Why have you brought us here?" Bao-Dur said, never forgetting the small army of Vogga's henchmen still bordering the audience chamber. And the Kath Hounds. He really hated Kath Hounds…

"Your leader made a deal with me, Zabrak. She has not held up her end of the agreement. Such disrespect carries with it certain consequences."

"We're here to see you about just that, Vogga," said Mira.

"The arrangement was made with the Jedi. Why does she send her pets?"

Mira visibly bristled and Bao-Dur could almost feel the irritation rolling off her. He stepped in before she said something they'd both regret. "Jedi Parren deeply regrets that she is unable to see to your business herself, Great Vogga, but unfortunately, her presence was required elsewhere. She sent us so as not to keep you waiting any longer, as her other obligations may keep her for quite some time. I assure you, her absence is in no way meant to be an insult, sir."

Mira shot him a look of surprise, her mouth hanging open just a little bit. She'd never heard him say that much all at once before, not to mention the hint of diplomacy. Bao-Dur wondered if something didn't rub off on him after spending so much time with Ithorians on Telos.

Vogga seemed to think for a moment, his slimy tongue meandering in and out of his cavernous mouth. "I am listening," he said eventually. Bao-Dur let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Goto's dead," Mira answered.

"I see no corpse dragging behind you," Vogga replied. "I want that schutta's head on my wall!" He roared.

"That won't be possible, Vogga," said Bao-Dur, feverishly wracking his brain. They'd known they would have to convince the Hutt that the bane of his existence was destroyed without a body, but he'd planned on having a little more time to come up with a plan.

"There's no body to bring you," Mira said with a shrug. Vogga chortled loudly.

"Then yours will have to suffice," he grunted. The sound of metal against metal filled the audience chamber as the bounty hunters cocked their weapons and readied to fire.

"No! No, wait!" Bao-Dur's arms shot up in surrender. Vogga laboriously raised one of his own in a halting gesture toward his men. Bao-Dur continued. "There's no body because 'Goto' wasn't a man at all. The droid… it was the droid all along. Gee-oh-Tee-oh—the droid's designation—"

Vogga lowered his hand.

"No, he's telling the truth! Think about it," Mira interrupted, taking a step closer to the Hutt. "Who besides a droid could be so consistently analytical, so precise? Why was there not a single organic sentient working for him besides bounty hunters? Why has no one ever seen him in person? There was never any _person_ to see!"

"Surely your Greatness can see through the droid's deception," Bao-Dur added, getting an idea. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the Great Vogga has known all along… Let it never be said that he is uninformed," he bluffed.

Mira didn't miss a beat. "It's a shame it took so long for Jedi Parren to figure out… Vogga must have been testing her by not telling her what he already knew. Truly brilliant," she said, throwing the Hutt a look of utter admiration. Vogga's eyes narrowed. "At any rate," she continued, "GO-TO has been destroyed, his yacht has been destroyed. All in all, your business is more secure than ever—and more prosperous."

Vogga reached over and pulled a screaming, squirming, fur-less rodent from a small cage to the side of his throne and shoveled it into his mouth, biding his time in an effort to save face. Mira and Bao-Dur glanced at each other impatiently. Mira shrugged before turning back to the Hutt, who swallowed the rodent whole.

"Indeed," he grated finally. "It took your Jedi far longer than I had expected." He raised his voice and directed his attention toward the bounty hunters still poised to take out Mira and Bao-Dur at a moment's notice. "Leave!" he yelled in Huttese. Mira's Transdoshan raised his weapon like he was going to hit her again. Bao-Dur stiffened, but Mira didn't flinch. The bounty hunter guffawed, then swung around and left, following the rest of the rag-tag group out of the ornate room.

"The _droid_," Vogga spat, "is destroyed?"

"Yes. I destroyed it myself," Bao-Dur responded. It wasn't a lie, exactly. He _was_ responsible for Malachor V where GO-TO and his own little droid were crushed.

"It is true that none of my shipments have been disturbed since the destruction of it's ship…" the Hutt mused.

"Would any of those shipments be meant for Citadel Station, if I may ask?" said Bao-Dur. Vogga laughed.

"The fuel for your station has been ordered, though its dispatch has been naturally postponed."

"_Nat_urally," Mira drawled. "Do you think you could _un_-postpone it? We did your dirty work for you, now it's your turn."

"The Jedi promised me Goto in return for fuel for Telos. She has not fulfilled her end of the bargain…" Vogga answered nonchalantly. Mira clenched her teeth.

"We told you—'Goto's' dead. What do you want me to do? Pull what's left of it out of my—"

"And that is why you are still alive. But I did not say I was unreasonable, bounty hunter."

Mira shut her mouth. Vogga continued.

"I still have something you want. I have been in business long enough to know that this is an opportunity not to be wasted."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Mira whispered. Bao-Dur nodded.

"What do you want, Vogga?" he asked. The Hutt laughed again.

"Your fuel is on Sleheyron. But so is another thorn in my side." Vogga touched a button on his platform and within seconds, a Bothan assistant hurried in with a datapad in hand. He handed it to Bao-Dur who looked up at the Hutt for explanation.

"Never let it be said that the illustrious Vogga the Hutt is uninformed," Vogga intoned, stealing Bao-Dur's words from earlier. "I know it was your Jedi's droid that infiltrated my warehouse. I know it retrieved an identification signature from one of my supply ships, and I know it was that signature that allowed you to gain access to Goto's yacht following Parren's capture. I also know that while leaving _my_ warehouse, your droid was attacked by three assassin droids of unknown origin."

"And?" Mira asked impatiently. Vogga scowled.

"While I would be perfectly content to let these infernal droids continue hunting you and your friends down until every one of you is dead, I take exception to their destruction of merchandise in _my_ warehouse. I want you to destroy them, and their source." He performed a Hutt equivalent of a shrug. "If you succeed, I win. If you die… I win."

Mira shook her head. "But you just said their origin is unknown. We haven't—"

"Perhaps to you, their source is unknown. To _me_, nothing on Sleheyron is unknown. As chance would have it, both of your quarries may be found in the same place," he sneered.

"And if we don't succeed?" Bao-Dur asked, lifting his eyes from the datapad in his hand. "What will happen to Telos?"

"Ah… perhaps then I will extend an invitation to our indisposed Jedi Parren." He drooled just a little, the spittle running down his multiple chins. "I'm sure the fuel is worth enough to her that she'd agree to a few years of exclusive dances…"

* * *

_Atton walked into the near-empty dormitory just in time to see his Jedi companion put her fist through a lighting panel. He cringed sympathetically, but she seemed to have no reaction to the pain at all. Shards of the thin, flimsy transparisteel rained onto the deck as she pulled her hand out of the wall. _

_Parren looked different to him all of the sudden. He remembered thinking how… incapable she'd seemed to him on Telos, how unlikely a warrior. And now, as uncomfortable as she seemed to look in them, the Jedi robes she'd found on Dantooine made her finally look the part. She belonged in them. _

_However much he might miss her running around in her underwear. _

"_What's the matter?" he said, finally announcing his presence. She glanced at him, then at the broken light panel, then at her hand, which was starting to bleed. She pursed her lips. _

"_Nothing." _

_Atton quirked an eyebrow skeptically. Tien cradled her injured right hand with her left and moved to her pack on the floor, finding a piece of clean linen and wrapping it around her hand. Apparently the injury wasn't bad enough to warrant the waste of a medpack. _

_Believing the conversation over before it began, Atton took Tien's silence as a cue to leave. He began to turn around. _

_She grunted in acute frustration. Atton stopped and turned back expectantly. She didn't look at him. _

"_It's just…" She growled. "Damned _Jedi_!"_

_For a second there, the scoundrel thought she might bust up another panel, but she was obviously restraining herself. _

"_What about them? I mean, don't get me wrong, I completely agree with you. I'm just… curious about _your _reasons." _

"_What, _besides_ the whole exile thing?" She replied incredulously. She paced the room like a caged animal._

"_Well…" He stepped further into the room and grabbed her arm bringing her to a halt. Her perpetual nervous motion had been grating on him. She looked up at him and he couldn't decide on what she was feeling just by observing her troubled features. Since they'd met on Peragus, she'd never exactly been the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, but at least she'd always seemed to have _sense_. Now, she just seemed like she was going to jump out of her skin. _

_She jerked her arm out of his hand without a word, leaving him standing in the middle of the room as she plopped down onto one of the lower bunks along the wall. _

"_Damn Vrook and his… his… self-_right_eousness. He's the only person who's ever right. He—he _twists_ everything so that nothing is ever... No one's allowed to do anything without his approval or his orders or—"_

"_Ah! Don't you mean _you're _not allowed to do anything without his approval or his orders?"_

_Tien glared at him. _

"_Boy, do you ever have history, lady," Atton mused, shaking his head in mock woe. Tien rolled her eyes. "Tell me, are all the Jedi we might happen upon going to have the same high opinion of you, or was this Vrook guy just a special case?" _

_Tien snorted. "Vrook has always been a _special_ case," she admitted. "I've known him a long time and…" she smiled ruefully. "Well, he never seemed to like _anyone_, but sometimes I would get this feeling like his—disdain—was just for me. When we found him in the Kinrath cave, I… I felt like a Padawan again, a teenager with her future as a Jedi hinging on… on _this_ man's approval of her." She shook her head. "Even then, I hadn't been very sure that I had it. This just shows how little things change." _

_She looked down at the new weapon in her lap. Atton nodded, remembering the Jedi Master's brief shrug of disappointment when he saw that Tien and Bao-Dur had built a double-bladed lightsaber using the emitter he'd given her. Even Atton knew that the double-blade was more often equated with the Sith than the Jedi. _

_Tien fiddled idly with the lightsaber, playing with the clip on her belt and unlatching it. She held the shaft in her hands and Atton got his first good look at the weapon. What she and Bao-Dur had built was beautiful—probably the most elegant lightsaber he'd ever seen. Their Zabrak tech specialist had taken special care in its construction, spending hours with Tien in the _Ebon Hawk's _garage at the workbench._

_The shaft was smooth—a light silvery metal hilt with strips of polished ebony wood laid into the grips. Where Bao-Dur had found the materials, Atton had no idea, but the result of the extra attention was unmistakable. Tien loved it. He'd caught her just staring at it with a weird, far-off smile on her face at least a dozen times in the 12 or so hours since they'd left Dantooine. _

"_The thing is," she finally said as Atton sat down beside her, "he _is_ right. I'm not a Jedi, and I shouldn't be. I'm not stupid, Atton. I knew exactly what was going to happen when I walked into the Council chambers after the war."_

"_Then why did you go?"_

_Tien smirked. "I was a Jedi without the Force, a member of an Order that had turned its back on the Galaxy." She sighed. "If I had to do it again, would I make the same choices?"_

"_Would you?" Atton asked. She looked over at him, that expression of frustration and anger from earlier had disappeared and in its place was a look of peace. _

"_I'm not like them—I wonder if I ever was. I wouldn't be able to stay put, even knowing what I know now," she answered. "It was my decision and I made it." _

The memory faded and Atton's eyes wandered lazily around the holding cell through the blue shimmer of the force cage in which he'd made himself so at-home. One does get good at that after ending up in one on virtually every planet he'd ever set foot on.

He occupied himself for hours by sifting though his memories for anything useful, wondering if Tien and Visas, Bao-Dur and Mira were all doing better than he and Mical, and trying to come up with an escape plan—all under a mental shroud of hyperspace route recitations and swoop statistics.

He was being more careful than usual, actually. He felt something familiar on this ship—a presence that gave him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He unconsciously shrugged his ribbed jacket tighter around himself to ward off a shiver.

Atton thought about Tien again, wondering if she'd gotten over whatever was holding her back after Malachor yet. If she'd abandoned her old double-bladed sword and picked up her lightsaber again.

His hair stood up on the back of his neck as the familiar-bad feeling got suddenly closer and more pronounced. He stood up in the narrow cage with a groan, his knees aching after being bent under him for so long.

He wondered idly if Mical was having as much fun as him.

The door to the holding cell slid open with a hiss and three people entered the small room. Atton adopted a posture of defiant attention, queuing up the best witty-retort material in his extensive repertoire.

He could see them better as they moved deeper into the dimly lit room, but the light in his cage was far brighter, making the figures approaching little more than silhouettes.

Atton felt nauseous. _Hand shows 10. Play the /-6, you get 4 or 16. Hand shows 16. Play the /-5, you get 11 or 21. Hand shows—"_

One of the figures walked right up to the cage. He could see her face now—it was barely half a meter away. She looked Echani, her pale complexion and the wisps of white hair poking out from under her hood standing in stark contrast to the dark hue of her cloak.

"Atris," Atton observed. She smiled.

"Welcome, murderer."

* * *

Dum-dum _duuummm!_Darkgirl- I'm glad you liked Tien and Juhani's little talk. You're right, little by little I'm trying to get at what Tien's deal really is. I'm getting there. Thanks for being patient. :) And I'm actually really warming up to the Mira/Bao-Dur idea. Mwahaha. 

Snackfiend- I'm just very happy you're reading. And you're always so wonderful at jotting something down for me. I appreciate it. :)

Ah, Lunatic Pandora- I was very confused about the Darth Traya thing, too. If I _had_ my X-Box (stupidmiserlybrotherwon'tgiveitback), I would double check it again, but as it is, I've been getting my more specific information from the Prima Strategy Guide, in which Atris, after going dark side, is specifically referred to as Darth Traya. So I swear, I didn't just pull it out of my ass. :) Maybe it was Kreia's moniker before she was exiled from the Sith, and Atris just adopted it? Maybe I'll have to write about that. Hmmmm... And I don't think Zaalbar had a life-debt to _Mission_, but he did have a life-debt to Revan, which will come up later. :) Thanks for keeping me on my toes! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

Red Mage- Could I borrow your stick sometime? Sometimes my head's as crowded as yours sounds. ;) And, you're even recommending the story! Thanks!

WMG- Hoo, boy. It's _really_ hard to keep them apart, but I think it'll pay off in the end. Truth be told, I think if I had to worry about Carth and Bastilla too, my head would explode. :) Though, I would love to have them be a bigger part of the story. I love Carth especially. :dopey grin: We'll see. My excuse for Carth is that he's got other things to worry about, right now. He's not about to let Telos die again, after all. I hope you continue reading. Thank you.

Foxfire- Poor Atton, indeed. You know, I really feel sorry for the guy. He's fast becoming a real incarceration connoisseur, isn't he? Hehehe. And that "very suave" thing was my favorite, too. Thanks.

Nat- Thanks so much for the very kind words. Definitely keeping it up. Glad you like.

Thieving Jedi- Sorry to cause you pain, hon. :) Thanks so much for the applause. I bow to your graciousness.

Wook- Yay! Nothing better than a day wasted reading fanfic, I say. :) :Raises hand: Guilty of the same, many times over. And yes, the _lines_. The frigging lines! Banes of my existence! When I'm typing stuff in Word, I use asterisks to do the breaks, and they never carry over, and I always forget to go back and put them in! Sigh. I'll do better, I promise. Besides that, I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks.

Roanna- I _loved_ the characters from KotOR I and I really, really want to use them all. Call them shameless cameos, if you will, but I think Roanna and I will call them visits from old friends. :) Thank you, hon.

Phew. Okay, I think that's everybody. I've got about half of the next chapter written already, but I have a 15 page paper on Teachers and the Law due next week, so if the fic-writing comes slowly, that's why. :) Wish me luck, kids. But I really did hate ending with a cliffhanger on this one, so I swear I'll crank chapter 9 out as soon as humanly possible. :Ducks and hides from reviewers throwing rotten fruit:

I just want to thank you all again, too. I've never had such great, _constructive_ feedback before and you have no idea how much I appreciate it. You guys are gems. Thank you.

VL


	9. Chapter 9

_The games aren't mine, but the story is. No money. Don't sue. Muchas gracias a Foxfire for the amazing beta!_

_

* * *

_

"_This feels so wrong," Tien said, taking a deep, calming breath as they left Telos behind them. Again. He, for one, felt infinitely calmer since Kreia was no longer with them. Even if she was turning out to be their greatest enemy. Tien stopped pacing andstood behind his seat, resting her elbows on the top of the high pilot's chair-back and folded her hands as a peak in front of her face. She sighed, the breath ruffling his hair. _

"Everything_ about this whole trip feels wrong," he answered, surprisingly serious. _

"_No… I know. But… She was so _right_. She so believed in her rightness that I almost believed it too. It was frightening, I suppose. To see Atris—this pillar of the Order—having fallen so _far_." Tien dropped her forehead, resting it on her knotted hands. She stifled a self-deprecating laugh. "What really bothers me, though… Force, for all we've been helping people since we started on this wild Tach chase, for all of my damnable do-gooding on every world we set foot on, I couldn't save _her._ I've betrayed her again. All I did for her was leave her there in the ice of Telos with her holocrons, wallowing in her own insanity."_

Atton eyed the Jedi Master warily and Atris eyed him back, a creepy smirk marring her naturally dignified features. He'd never seen her in person before—other than in the holo of Tien's trial—but even without that, he would have known her. She was practically broadcasting her power and mental instability over the Force. You couldn't miss it.

"_You can't save everyone, Tien," Atton said. He could feel her smiling sadly behind him, trying to believe him. "I wish you'd stop feeling so guilty. It's really starting to irritate me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."_

"_I'm sorry, Atton," she said pushing herself gently away from his seat. He turned his head, catching her motion out of the corner of his eye. "But," she continued, "I don't think I feel guilty for the reasons you think I do." _

_At her soft confession, Atton turned himself completely around, meeting her eye as she moved to leave the cockpit. He quirked an eyebrow, urging her on, but she shook her head. Tien looked at him carefully and with such an expression of unmistakable self-loathing that Atton wanted to look away. _

"_I wonder if I should have killed her, Atton," she whispered. _

"_Why?" he breathed, not quite sure what else to say. What do you say to that?_

_She paused, hesitatingly stumbling over her words. "If… if you had a chance to go back and destroy… Exar Kun… or Revan or Malak… before they had a chance to kill so many others…" Tien winced, unable to look at him. "Would you do it?"_

"_You think Atris is as bad as all that?" Atton asked, surprised. Tien shrugged, arms spreading in submission. _

"_I just don't know, Atton. I guess we'll find out."_

Atton tensed, feeling her finally _move_. He'd been expecting it—braced himself for it. If Kreia had done anything for him, he thought she had prepared him for something like this.

But Atris didn't feel the way Kreia had when invading his mind. Kreia had been… uncomfortable. Numbing and frightening and overwhelming him with a sense of helplessness, which angered him more than hurt. She had been cold, precise. She'd known exactly what she was looking for. The probings of Kreia's mind within his had been practiced.

Atris was _hot_. Searing as she grasped for anything and everything he knew and felt. He gasped when her mind entered his, far too surprised by the sensation to make a sound. Atris was so far beyond _uncomfortable._ This was… torture. Atton couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't add two and two, let alone count cards.

She seemed to slow, suddenly, as though stumbling onto something that warranted further inspection. _The Exile…_ he heard her whisper into his mind. _Where is she…_

Atton could see Tien clearly as Atris tried to probe his memories of her. He couldn't stop it. Atton was on his knees in an active force cage on a Sith capital ship. And he had been reduced to whimpers, bypassing "manly scream" altogether.

She sifted through his thoughts without stopping. He wanted to kill her for violating him like this, for violating Tien like this, taking away from them the things that she had shared only with him and him with her.

"_Hmm… your feelings are a powerful shield indeed," Kreia said, digging deeper past his walls of guilt, shame, love, regret, lust, joy… _

Atton threw his feelings up, blocking his thoughts from Atris as she explored his memories of sharing his past with Tien on Nar Shaddaa. _How had he ever thought she wouldn't forgive him? _The feelings were at the surface anyway, the chore being _suppressing_ them all the time. Now, suddenly, they were just what he needed.

He drew from that—his relief, the freedom, the satisfaction of the honest moment. _I want to help you…_ he'd said. She opened him up to the Force and he loved her for that.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

He thought Tien would forgive him just this once.

Atton opened the floodgates, freeing all of his passion for her from its strongbox in a dark corner of his mind, letting it consume him. It became his anchor—his focus. And it seemed to be working. He felt Atris begin to withdraw hesitantly, finding heavy doors slammed shut in her face. He could feel her seething anger at being rebuffed so profoundly and her vengeance as she grasped at whatever she could to take out with her. Atton focused even more sharply—

…_Tien stopped pacing and stood behind his seat, resting her elbows on the top of the high pilot's chair-back. Her hand dangled, fingers gently combing through his hair. He reached his hand up, grabbing hers and stilling it. With his other hand, he activated the autopilot and stood, puling her toward him, face to face. She was so much smaller than him, but somehow felt… so much bigger. He touched her face, cautiously at first, trailing his fingers across her jaw. He pulled her Rakatan band from her head and dropped it, letting it break against the deck plating. Bao-Dur could fix it. _

"_Why do you stay with me, Atton? You could have left a thousand times…" she whispered. She'd probably _asked_ him that a thousand times, and he'd never before managed to answer truthfully, even knowing that she could easily see through his deception. A part of him wished she had called him on it at least once. _

"_Why do you think?" he said finally. "I love you." He wished he was saying it for real and not just to keep Atris at bay. A wave of regret suddenly augmented his wall of emotion. He'd probably never be able to tell her… _

_She smiled. "I know."_

Atton collapsed to the ground, ignoring the sizzle of his booted heel against the energy field of the cage. He was just too exhausted to care. He opened his eyes and tried to prop himself up, but his arms didn't seem to want to cooperate. He lay there, paralyzed. Atris walked into his field of vision and knelt down so he couldn't help but see her.

"You impress me," she said, "but only because my initial expectations of you were barely existent. I assure you, murderer, your base lusts will not protect you forever. I know who you are, Atton Rand, and you are no Jedi. Do not expect your meager training to save you."

He wanted to speak, wanted to ask her what she wanted, why she was doing this, where was Mical, what was she planning—but Atris _reached_ into his mind again, without warning. At least he was already on the ground this time, he though just before losing consciousness.

* * *

The Echani warrior refused to look at him as she continued whatever she was doing at the computer console across the small room. He got the distinct impression, however, that she had finished whatever she came to do a while ago and only stayed to size him up. 

Mical had that little paranoid tingle he got when he was being watched.

He could feel the Force all around her… and he could also feel her ignorance of it. Atris probably preferred it that way. She purposely surrounded herself with servants less powerful than herself. Maybe the Sith were finally figuring out that the whole master-apprentice thing was never healthy for the master. Atris, unfortunately, was showing herself to be far less the stupid super-villain and far more the evil genius.

_The assassin stood over the fallen Jedi, his black hood hiding the wicked smile on his face. He sheathed his vibroblade and stepped arrogantly over the body, absently kicking the dead lightsaber away from the corpse's hand._

"_You don't need to do this…" a voice said. The assassin turned and saw a woman in the customary brown robes of a Jedi Padawan. She extended the green blade of her lightsaber. Soundlessly, the black figure crept nearer to her, the hum of his foe's lightsaber drowning out the barely-there vibrations of his own blade shaking off the blood of its last victim._

Atris had gotten past Atton's defenses after a brutal—but swift—mental war for superiority, and Mical had been feeling the reverberations ever since. Foggy glimpses… but enough to know what she was after. He'd given up trying to help his companion through the rougher probes as he knew Atton was too consumed to feel a benefit, but he left himself open, hoping his friend would share the burden with him if he had to.

Mical knew who the assassin was, and realized very quickly why, after gracing the Disciple with her presence only once in the last few days, she had chosen to spend more of her time with Atton, drawing from his memories and twisting them into her own weapons, weaving the past, future, and fantasy into an unintelligible mess. Mical couldn't tell anymore what was real and what wasn't, and doubted Atton could either.

"_And you waste your last breath," growled the assassin._

Mical closed his eyes from the impending vision of Atton's vibroblade slicing through the nameless Jedi. Atris had chosen her focus well—despite his best efforts, Atton's dark side was still so close to the surface.

The Disciple opened his eyes again, glancing through the shimmer of his force cage at the woman still at the console. He imagined she was looking back at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, trying to clear his head a little. She blinked, her brow furrowing. Force, she _was_ looking at him. Encouraged by her semi-acknowledgement, he asked again. "What are you doing?"

He watched her swallow and look back down at the console, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. She was trying to mask her uncertainty with ignorance. Mical sighed. The Echani looked up again, watching him unabashedly. Mical stood up a little straighter under the scrutiny. She stepped away from the console, her heels barely making a sound as she walked slowly and lightly toward him. She stopped.

"You are Jedi," she said, her voice soft, but very authoritative. She reminded him somewhat of Visas when she spoke.

"I am… working on it," he answered, trying not to give too much away. For all he knew, this was some kind of trick.

"It was not a question," she replied. Mical's eyebrows rose about a centimeter.

"No, I don't suppose it was," he shrugged. He decided to let her lead the conversation. She was, after all, the one on the _outside_ of the force cage.

Rather than say anything else, though, the Echani quickly turned on her heel and strode away from the cage, the door to the cell barely opening wide enough for her to slip through without breaking her pace. It closed behind her, leaving Mical profoundly confused, and profoundly alone, save his thoughts—and Atton's.

_He rode on the assassin's shoulder, watching as he silently approached a stationary figure, a woman. Her back was toward them. The air around them was distorted—a stealth generator. She couldn't hear them coming… The assassin slowly and carefully raised his weapon, maintaining his invisibility until the last possible moment. Her breath hitched, and she turned, igniting her violet, double-lightsaber just as the assassin drew his own blood-red blade. His stealth field dropped and he attacked, bringing his saber down toward her…

* * *

_

"We are wasting time," Visas said, her voice even but forceful.

"No we're not," Tien muttered as she took the fine probe from T3 and carefully adjusted the hyperdrive output gauge. While the _Hawk_ was still minimally spaceworthy, she knew something had to be wrong when the navicomputer predicted an ETA to Taris a good five hours earlier than they had actually arrived. It hadn't mattered much this time, but what if next time that five hours means the difference between life and death or something similarly important? She was pretty sure the problem had something to do with the navicomputer's readings of how much energy the hyperdrive was putting out—it was _calculating_, but the values it was calculating _with_ were off…

The cockpit console responsible for timetabling destinations blinked out.

"Damn," she hissed, throwing the probe toward the pile of other discarded tools in the middle of the cockpit without looking first. Visas caught it with the Force a few centimeters from her head and let it drop vertically to the floor. "T3, try running a diagnostic on the power grid, maybe something's faulty in the wiring…" The droid warbled an affirmative and linked with the _Ebon Hawk's _main computer terminal near the galaxy map, hoping to pinpoint the source of one of their many problems.

"Atton and Bao-Dur would have had this hunk of junk fixed hours ago…" she sighed, then pushed the thought from her mind. _They would have come with you if you asked,_ she told herself. _But no, it was your decision and you made it…_

Tien glanced at Visas, who was still standing in the middle of the cockpit watching her. If she didn't know better, she might think Jedi Marr was impatient with her. Tien sighed and pulled herself out from under the console she'd been fiddling with, sitting up when her head cleared the underside of the panel. "T3, keep working on what you can. I think it's time for a break," she said, reaching her hand up to Visas. The Miraluka hesitated only for a second before reaching down to help Tien up.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ is spaceworthy, even if only marginally so. I do not understand why you felt you had to begin disassembling it…" Visas said, following Tien down the ship's ramp. Tien merely shook her head and continued walking away from the vessel, coming to a stop several meters away from it. She took a deep breath and waved her arm flamboyantly toward the ailing ship.

"I think 'marginally so' may be an overstatement," she said. She regarded Visas, waiting for some sort of response as her friend examined the _Hawk_ and its extensive damage. Tien had certainly doubted the wisdom of absconding in it so quickly when the repair team on the Citadel had barely had a day to brace it structurally, but she was convinced, even now, that time was of the essence.

Though she realized later that they'd waste far more time adrift in space after a hyperdrive failure than they would on repairs before being potentially stranded.

Visas merely shrugged at the damage, apparently feeling pretty confident that if the ship had gotten them this far, it could certainly take them a little further.

"You spent too much time on the _Ravager_, Visas. _Spaceworthy_ ships do not look like _that_," she continued, gesturing again toward the _Hawk_, as though drawing her attention to it again would finally make the scope of their situation evident. Visas remained unfazed. Tien rolled her eyes.

"You know what? I'm just… gonna go for a walk. Do you know anything about repairing starships?" Tien asked.

"No," Visas replied, like it should have been completely obvious.

Tien handed her the #2 hydrospanner she'd tucked into her belt for easy access. "Well, it's not like you can do any damage she hasn't already got…" She pulled the long-sleeved work shirt from around her waist and pulled it on over her sleeveless tunic, having abandoned her Norris robes along with her lightsaber after… after Malachor… Telos… Abandoned everything, it seemed. Changing one life for another. Better to not be a Jedi, now anyway. No matter what Juhani might think… or how right she was. She'd been tempted to tell Visas to change into something less conspicuous herself, but she doubted the woman would comply.

She didn't look back at Visas, but could feel her frustration as she retreated into the _Ebon Hawk_, no doubt dropping the hydrospanner on the pile of other tools in the cockpit. Visas was irritated with her, of course, but Tien was finding it harder and harder to care as the days went by. Minor irritations were nothing in the grand scheme of things. No place seemed to illustrate that better than this one.

They'd been on Taris for almost a week, now, helping where they could while working on the _Hawk_. Mission and Juhani were glad for the help, she knew, but Tien herself felt unusually overwhelmed. There didn't seem to be an end to the need. She felt like she could stay here for the rest of her life and never come close. She didn't know if she should admire Mission and Juhani for their commitment, or pity them for their folly.

* * *

Darkgirl—you're always such a sweetheart. I love your feedback, kiddo! And yeah… poor Atton. Damn… I think I've caught the whumping bug… Always wonderful to hear from you, please keep the encouragement coming! 

Diesel-Power—um… I don't think I've thought that far ahead, yet. But no, HK-47 and HK-51 are not one in the same… but, seeing as all of the HK models identify themselves as each other (HK could 'no sooner shoot one of the copies than he could shoot himself') I think you may have a valid point about HK-51 deferring to Revan as its master. I'd personally be more interested in HK-47's reaction to seeing Revan again, though. It was fun in KOTOR, and I think it would be fun here, too. Thanks for the note!

Thieving Jedi—I think I've said it before, but I can't say it enough. The best compliment I could get is that I've made someone laugh. (not a common occurrence when doing angsty drama, though)—and as long as you're not laughing at my horrific writing… Thanks, hon!

Loopylass—Thanks! I know, it took me 3 games to finally catch Bao-Dur at the right times to get some good conversations going (Ahem—spoiler—ahem—and turn him into a Jedi.) I actually started writing this before I started that last game, so that's why he's not a Jedi here… yet.

Snackfiend—Atton? Whine? Never. :) My Atton's gonna take it like a man… and should he just happen to make a few off-color remarks to keep his mind off his dire situation, so be it… Hehehe. Thanks so much for the fb. :)

Red Mage—Hey, Atris hasn't been collecting Sith memorabilia all this time just for kicks, you know. :) Girl's got connections… mwahahaha. And Atton may get out of this yet. It just might take a little while… we'll see. Thank you!

Kristin—Atris didn't know. All she knew upon the gang leaving Telos was that these were the folks chillin' with the Exile. She did, however, get some good, quality interrogation—slash--mindprobe time once she had our two unfortunate heroes in her vile clutches. And you have a really, really good point about the Juhani thing. I'm just gonna say for the sake of the story that Juhani was fairly young when she got off Telos the first time and went to the Jedi. If I have a chance, I might work on her backstory a little more to address that. Thanks for keeping me on my toes! I hadn't even thought of that.

Lady Azar—Yup. I know. (see response to Loopylass' feedback.) And yeah… Pretty obvious, huh:-b Thanks for the fb, and I'm sorry I made you wait for an update for so long!

Sheesh… it's taking me longer to respond to you guys than it did to write this chapter! But I'm smiling the whole time… :) Moving on…

Nat—I'm sorry! I love cliffies. I can't help it. I'll try to be better, though. But the allure of the dark side is difficult to resist… Thank you for the encouragement on my paper, too. I finished it and got an A, and have actually done a few other papers since then. Sigh. Onemoreweekonemoreweek… Then finals. Ugh. Can't win… Know I can count on your good thoughts, though. Thanks.

Foxfire—Baby, you know I love ya. Listen up, everybody! I want to make loud, public, bighuge thank-you to Foxfire for the beta of chapter 9. That is all. Thanks again, hon. Always await your thoughts with bated breath. You're the best.

Lunatic Pandora—I totally feel your confusion, hon. And to avoid further controversy, I think I might just try to avoid the whole Darth Traya thing altogether unless I figure it out for sure. I'll let you know if I come up with any more concrete evidence either way. I don't like being confused. It makes my brain hurt… :) Thanks for the feedback, and I hope you keep reading!

Wook—Exactly what I was going for with the dut-dut-duuuunnnn! I know… evil cliffie… Thank you so much for your very kind words, and I hope your rear isn't too sore from sitting on those sharp objects for so long. Sorry!

Maxie—Thanks, hon. I'm glad you like it! And yeah, that was how I felt about the end of TSL too… thus, the fanfic. That's just how it works! You know, there's a saying in the Stargate fandom… something to the effect of 'plot holes are only there for fic writers to fill.' I only hope I can do the otherwise awesome game justice. Stay tuned for some mushy stuff. :)

Phew! Okay! Wow, I love you guys! Ya make me want to write instead of studying for my finals! But I won't, because I'm a good little college student and I'm thinking about my future. –wink, wink –

Also, I finally caved and saved my pennies to buy TSL for PC since my brother has yet to return our X-Box which is now also purportedly busted. Don't fear, though… we got a service plan… but it might be a while. So I've started a couple more games—strictly for research purposes—and find myself infinitely more inspired now that I can immerse myself again. :) I'm so happy! Hehehe.

Thanks again, everybody! More is on the way.

VL


	10. Chapter 10

Only the original story is mine, the games and the movies are not. Sigh. No money made, so don't expect to get any if you sue. I'm poor.

* * *

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

She couldn't hear anything beyond that. Rushing blood pounding in her eardrums. Trying to get out? But… she needed that blood. Why would it want to leave?

It took a moment, but beyond the deafening thudding in her ears, she couldn't see. There was blackness all around her, lending to a sense of total isolation. She was without feeling, without senses, save the thudding.

And she couldn't breathe. She suddenly remembered that she should, but when she tried, it wasn't the stale-but-clean recycled air of the _Hawk_. It was smoky, dusty and choking. She coughed—she thought. She could feel the scratching in her throat and the heaving of her chest, but she couldn't hear the sound she knew should go with it.

Then she felt her skin, like she'd just woken up and the world around her became real. She was cold and hot at the same time, her skin—wasn't she wearing her robes?—was super-sensitized, her exposed arms tingled and hurt but there was a cool breeze.

_She breathed deeply, standing motionless in the cockpit of the _Ebon Hawk

"_You can't save everyone, Tien," she heard. "I wish you'd stop feeling so guilty. It's really starting to irritate me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one." She looked down at Atton, then out at the starlines of hyperspace out the front viewer. _

"_I'm sorry, Atton," Tien heard herself say, as though from a great distance._

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

_She pushed herself gently away from his seat and saw him turn his head. "But," she continued, "I don't think I feel guilty for the reasons you think I do." _

She tried to open her eyes, get her bearings, but her eyelids felt glued shut. She moved, scraping her fingers through the loose dirt on the ground. It stung the raw skin of her hands and she recoiled, deciding instead to just stay put. Better to just stay here… Stay.

_The _Hawk_ shifted slightly… the lighting, her orientation, her clothes—changed. Like in a dream. _

"_Why do you stay with me, Atton? You could have left a thousand times…" she whispered. She'd probably _asked_ him that a thousand times. His answers were always thinly veiled lies, but he didn't really need to _tell_ her the truth. She didn't think she could have heard it anyway. What had she told Mira? Something about it not being the right time… She couldn't remember. _

"_Why do you think?" he said finally. "I love you." _

Without thinking, she rolled with a loud groan, turning her face toward the ground, retching. She felt—_Atton_ felt sick. His feelings overwhelmed her—regret, fear, love, anger.

Then faded, making her heart drop into her stomach.

As if the world suddenly decided to switch from slow-motion to real-time, sound came flooding back to her so fast she thought she would drown. Voices went from jumbled murmurs to distinct shouts and screams, people talking, yelling, pounding, things falling, grinding.

Tien had to move. The noise made this all too real and she knew she had to move.

Something warm curled around her wrist, and Tien hissed at the burning sensation it caused her. She forced her eyes open and focused, pulling away slightly from Visas' silhouette. Tien calmed slightly, allowing her friend to pull her through the cloud of smoke surrounding them to her feet.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" she heard dimly. She felt Visas grab her around the waist. Tien flinched, weakly trying to push her away, but the Miraluka only tightened her grip, leading her through the smoke.

"What happened?" Tien coughed. She stumbled, losing her meager footing on a loose rock. Visas kept her upright, her breathing raspy in Tien's ear.

"We do not yet know. There was an explosion—"

Tien coughed again. "No kidding," she murmured. Her knees dropped out from under her. "Visas?" She tasted blood in her mouth and felt nauseated again. She shivered. "I don't feel well," she whispered.

She felt Visas tug at her after closing her eyes. Could imagine her breath hitching as she looked around for help, not really knowing what to say or do.

"Help me!" she heard faintly. For an instant, she was quite pleased—she knew how hard it was for the Miraluka to ask for help. "Please, I don't—"

The loud sounds of chaos disappeared, like she'd fallen into deep water and just kept sinking. The muffled noise got further and further away.

* * *

The Last Handmaiden strode from the detention block of the _Firestorm_, pointedly ignoring the pair of Sith guards that passed her as she moved from one block to another. She squelched a wave of disgust. Their presence made her ill.

Or was it _her_ presence on _their _ship that bothered her so? Her mistress' dealings with the devil that had brought them here?

She stopped at a door identical to all of the others on the Sith destroyer and entered her access code. She took a step into the darkened room when the door slid open, finding her mistress in the same position she had left her. The prisoner stood within the confines of his force cage, having long since moved past the initial resistance he'd shown. He was motionless, having realized that no amount of head-holding or squirming would be able to shield him from her mistress' probes. His eyes were closed, his lips moving slightly every once in a while.

The Handmaiden walked softly toward the computer terminal and logged in, checking the prisoner's vital signs. Atris made it clear to her that the prisoner was not to be permanently damaged, though checking his life signs, she doubted that the prisoner's health was as important to her mistress as she had professed.

Her mistress taunted the prisoner, her lips curled into a shape she had never seen on Atris before. The grin was sadistic, obscene. The Handmaiden could _feel_ the pleasure radiating from her.

"Do not worry, murderer. You do not have to say a word. I know you. I know who you are, who you were, and that they are one in the same," Atris sang, the soft, inviting tone of her voice standing in stark contrast to the perverse expression on her face.

"Don't know what you're talking about," the prisoner replied, weakly. The Handmaiden felt sorry for him. Atris was formidable. She was surprised he had lasted as long as he had.

Her mistress laughed. "No more witty retorts?"

The prisoner did not respond, but his eyes were narrowed with anger. Atris appeared pleased. She turned away from him and directed her attention toward the Handmaiden, poised beside the computer terminal controlling the force cage. "Turn it off," she said.

"Mistress?" the Handmaiden replied, puzzled. Atris nodded. The Handmaiden wondered if perhaps her mistress had regained what humanity she had seen disappear during the prisoner's lengthy interrogation. But was this mercy or just the precursor to another indignity?

She deactivated the force field and the prisoner, despite his obvious fatigue, dropped immediately into an Echani defensive stance, stepping off of the cage platform and backing away from Atris cautiously. He glanced at the Handmaiden appraisingly. She averted her eyes.

Her mistress pulled a lightsaber from her belt. It was the one she never used, but always kept with her. The double-hilt with silver blades. She activated it and the prisoner visibly tensed. The small room was bathed in a white, metallic light. The shadows it cast were long and surreal, and the Handmaiden wished her mistress would shut it off. She had an uncomfortable feeling about her intentions.

Atris approached him, the weapon drawn. "Do you recognize this?" she asked him, gently loping the blades, leaving latent black streaks in the air behind it. The Handmaiden squinted. Her fingers twitched, aching to pull her force pike from the sheath across her back.

"No," the prisoner answered warily. He did not move. Atris smiled.

"This was hers."

Atris deactivated the weapon and threw it to the prisoner. He caught it, pulling it toward him with the Force, and activated it the moment his fingers touched the hilt. It was obvious the man was trained, but certainly unused to the more difficult double-blade. The Handmaiden did not give him a chance to acclimate himself to it. She pulled her pike from its sheath and drew it before her, closing the distance to the now-armed prisoner in three long steps. She was upon him before he could formulate a plan.

The Handmaiden moved to strike, but stopped short, her stomach filling with a dark, inexplicable dread. Her weapon slipped impotently from her lax fingers and clanged to the ground. Darkness filled her vision and she wanted nothing more than to scream, frightened in a way she had not felt since childhood. What was happening to her? She felt like she was dying. She dropped to her knees, cowering in fear.

"Do not be so hasty, my handmaiden," she heard through the fog of her darkness. Her mistress' voice sounded so far away and only added to her terror. The prisoner moved in front of her, closing down the lightsaber and looking down at her with a compassion that belayed his desire to help her…

The horror she felt at… what, she did not know… began to fade. She reached for her brand only to have it slide away, untouched, from her hand. She looked at the prisoner who ignored her, his focus solely directed toward his captor. She followed his line of sight. Atris' hand was extended, her fingers directing the movement of her weapon. The Handmaiden stood slowly, confused. Was not her place the protection of her mistress? Why had she stopped her?

"I assure you, I am in no danger, Brianna. Our guest would never strike me. He walks the path of the light," Atris said, her voice cold and contemptuous.

"You call _that_ an insult?" the prisoner said.

"I call it denial," she answered frankly. The Handmaiden felt like she was not even in the room. The light… the silver blades. She knew nothing of the Jedi, but here two were. Enemies. Surely one was wrong while the other right. It disturbed her that she did not feel the player in the right was her mistress. "Your Exile has weakened you. Sapped your very strength of will. Where _she_ would surely use a weapon in her hands to strike me down, to escape, you will not."

"She wouldn't. She didn't. Unless I'm missing something, you're still here. _Tien _let you live. I think you've got the story backwards, lady," he said, his courage seemingly bolstered. Atris smiled, satisfied. Her mistress knew that would be his response.

"Prove it," Atris replied. The prisoner's eyes widened. "Atton Rand, Sith assassin or Jedi Knight? Surely you are one more than the other. Are you really Jedi, or do your deceptions lie so deep that you cannot be truthful even with yourself?"

* * *

Mira tilted her head back and downed her shot of Juma extract without flinching, flipped over the glass and dropped it on the bar. She nodded to the bartender for another. He raised his eyebrows, but poured her another shot, setting the refill on the bar next to the three glasses she'd already emptied. She lifted the full glass between her middle finger and thumb, wondering at the lovely blue tint the bar took on when seeing it through a glass of Juma, then swallowed it, dropping the empty glass next to the others.

Bao-Dur waved at the bartender, shaking his head to preempt any requests Mira might make for more. The barkeep winked at him and made his way to the other end of the bar where a couple of Twi'leks were roaring with laugher.

"Ugh," Mira groaned. "I hate this."

"What?"

Mira shuddered at the question and made a face. "This… being used. Being watched… I feel like… like I'm being hunted again. Like any minute now, Hanhaarr is going to come jumping out at me from around a corner."

"But he's dead, Mira, you know that. You killed him yourself."

Mira rolled her eyes. He was missing the point completely. She leaned on the bar and gestured not-so-discretely in the direction of the still-laughing Twi'leks. "You see them?" she asked. Bao-Dur nodded. "They work for Vogga. And that Bith over there?" She pointed at a single Bith male quietly nursing a drink at a table at the far end of the room by one of the windows. "He works for Vogga, too."

Bao-Dur grinned, deciding to humor his friend's paranoia. "And them? The three Transdoshans by the door?" he asked, knowing that not everyone on Nar Shaddaa could be keeping an eye on them. Mira shrugged.

"Bounty hunters," she replied nonchalantly before futilely trying to get the bartender's attention again. She dropped her forehead to the surface of the bar, rolling her head from side to side. Bao-Dur watched the Transdoshans he'd pointed out at random for any signs that might confirm or refute Mira's assessment of them, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He decided to trust her more trained eye.

"We can't stay here forever, you know," he said, turning away from his appraisals of the other patrons and redirecting his attention toward Mira. She groaned.

"I know," she said, her voice muffled by the bar.

"Whatever we're going to do," Bao-Dur whispered to her, "we should do it soon."

Mira giggled then lifted her head. Bao-Dur tried not to stare at the big red blotch in the middle of her forehead left by the bar-top. "We're not seriously considering going to Sleheyron, are we?" she asked. Bao-Dur looked at her blankly. The Juma juice was obviously starting to get to her. "You don't think we should?" he asked. "I thought this was the whole reason we came back here. We need that fuel." Mira shrugged.

"It's only a suicide mission, that's all," she answered lightly. Bao-Dur examined her face carefully, barely able to see the bruise from the impatient Transdoshan from before beginning to fade from her hairline. She brushed her long bangs out of her face and behind her ears.

"You didn't really think this would be as easy as popping in to see Vogga, asking him nicely to start sending Telos some fuel, and having him jump at the opportunity to be nice, did you?" He asked, somewhat irritated with her.

"Good point," she conceded. They sat in silence for a moment, Mira twirling an empty glass with her finger.

"Look," Bao-Dur said, finally. "You're more than welcome to stay here, if you like, but I've worked too hard and too long on Telos to have it all go to rot when the Citadel falls out of the sky. I'm going on whatever damn fool missions I have to to get that fuel." He stared at her and she stared back for a moment, then looked down at her hands. She sighed.

"Okay," she said softly. Bao-Dur released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Okay?"

"Well, I wouldn't be a very good Jedi if I let you go off on your suicide mission alone."

Bao-Dur smiled. "You're sure you're not just saying that because you're drunk?" he asked. Mira laughed.

"I'm not drunk," she grumbled, "unfortunately."

Bao-Dur nodded at the line of empty shot glasses. Mira rolled her eyes.

"The Force: not just for fighting the effects of your average gas mines, anymore. Perfect for negating mind-altering substances, too." She pushed herself away from the bar, dropping some credits and turning toward the door. She recklessly elbowed her way past the three Transdoshans still congregated near the entrance. "Gentlemen…" she murmured. They let her pass without making a scene.

Bao-Dur breathed a sigh of relief before cautiously following her out of the cantina and back toward the refugee landing pad and the _Blue Moon._

It had been two days since their arrival on Nar Shaddaa and their meeting with Vogga and during that time, Bao-Dur had seen little of Mira. This morning, he'd woken up on the ship to find her missing again and had found her after some searching in her little hideaway at the flophouse. She had been rummaging through a couple of footlockers she'd had hidden behind some discarded equipment. He'd startled her, and nearly gotten a blaster shot between the eyes for his trouble.

"So this is where you keep disappearing to?" he'd asked.

_Mira lowered her blaster and took a deep breath. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," she said. Bao-Dur stepped deeper into the small, smelly room, gesturing toward the wide open door. _

"_You shouldn't have let me."_

_Mira ignored him and went back to searching through her supplies, surprised to find that nothing had been stolen since she'd left Nar Shaddaa the first time with Tien. She banged on the secret compartment at the bottom of her strongbox and a panel popped open with a satisfying hiss. She felt Bao-Dur come stand behind her as she pulled a small stack of datapads from the compartment. She handed them to him before digging deeper into the strongbox. He sifted through them while she felt around for the spare rockets and darts she kept down there for emergencies. _

"_What are these?" he mumbled. She flipped her hair up as she emerged with a handful of tranquilizer darts and incendiary projectiles for her wrist launcher. _

"_Work," she replied succinctly. He examined one of the pads; a picture of a little girl with dark hair, some vital statistics, last known location, parents, acquaintances. Another was a dark-skinned human male, middle-aged. His wife was in the picture—it was probably the last thing she had left of him, the last thing she had with his image on it that might help her locate him. _

_All of these pads were bounties, he realized. People looking for lost people and willing to pay to get them back. Without even thinking about it, his heart went out to them. Pointless, of course, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse for taking their would-be rescuer-searcher away from them. _

"I'm good at finding people," _Mira had shrugged. And she took it seriously, he saw. _

_Noting his silence, Mira stood up, pulling the drawstring on a duffle she'd found and filled with the sundry remnants of her life on Nar Shaddaa. _

"_I won't be coming back here," she said simply. Bao-Dur merely nodded. What more was there to say? _

_She swung the bag over her shoulder and strode out of the small hovel, leaving everything she'd known since escaping Mandalorian slavery behind. It wasn't much, but it was hers. And she was saying goodbye. Bao-Dur recognized it for what it was. _

_He'd had a home once, before Malachor, before the wars. He remembered thinking he wouldn't be going back, either, as he'd packed his bag. He'd been right. _

Bao-Dur followed Mira now, back to the _Blue Moon_ and life after the smuggler's moon. He wondered if maybe Mira knew something he didn't; something about the future that might give them an inkling of what to expect on whatever journeys they faced. He reflected for a moment on the irony of what he was doing—still moving from place to place. But he wasn't running away anymore. At least now, he was running toward something. Saw a purpose, finally, beyond escaping his past. That was some comfort, at least.

He watched Mira, her walk steady, but her mind troubled. She wasn't sure about this, and neither was he, if he was really honest. He wished there was some way for him to contact the General. _It would be easy, _he thought. _Just rig up a long range communication device and hone in on the _Ebon Hawk's_ ID signature. _He could do it, he knew, but thought better of it.

For the first time since talking it over briefly with Tien, he thought about what she had said about her connections, asking him why he stayed with her, why he continued to fight for her, questioning the independence of his actions.

_I'm still fighting for you, General. And it is my own choice. If anything is proof of that, let it be this._

Mira activated the _Moon's_ ramp and stepped up into the ship before its bottom hit the landing pad. He followed her up, relishing the thought of being back in space if even for the short trip to Sleheyron. He could find endless things to fix on a little clunker like theirs.

* * *

"What does she want?" Mical asked the Echani. She had given up on trying to appear industrious and had taken instead to sitting on the floor against a wall, alternating between meditation and observation, mirroring his own pose. He didn't expect her to answer.

She sat with him often, now, always starting off with some pretense or another, but ending up sitting against the wall like she was now, as though seeking refuge from some oppressive problem. He'd gotten used to her presence over the last couple of days, even the brief visits where their only contact was the exchange of her full packet of rations for his empty one through his confines. This one, was proving to be more substantive, though.

"I don't know," she sighed.

"Why were we captured?" he asked, encouraged by her response. "How did Atris gain access to a Sith destroyer?"

The Handmaiden opened her mouth, then closed it again, shaking her head. He sighed, maintaining his calm despite a near overriding frustration. He knew this woman was—ideologically—on the side of the light, but he also knew something of loyalty and could see how much it governed her.

"You know what's going on here, don't you? You've seen what's happened to your mistress. You asked me before if I was a Jedi—I can tell you she is not. Not anymore."

"She still controls the Force. She is stronger than she has ever been."

"Just because Atris can use the Force, does not mean she is a Jedi. Surely she has told you of the dark side? The Sith?" he said. She pursed her lips.

"Of course. The dark side of the Force—she has told us that is what your kind wield."

"My kind?"

"The Exile. She fell in the Mandalorian Wars, succumbing to her thirst for bloodshed," she answered, as though she was saying the most obvious thing in the world.

Mical couldn't help it. He snorted. The Echani's brow furrowed in confusion.

"You mock me," she said indignantly.

Mical shook his head, still smiling. "No, I don't mock you. I merely find it difficult to believe that anyone would think of Tien Parren as bloodthirsty. That description could not be further from the truth. You are being lied to, and probably not just about Jedi Parren's light or dark side leanings."

"I have no reason to trust you, Jedi."

"And I have no reason to trust you," he lied. He could see her motives, the truth or deception in her words. She truly believed what Atris told her, if only because it _was_ Atris who told her. And somehow, he did trust her.

* * *

Okay, so this was a longer chapter, and I think I like this length a little better than the 3000 words I've been shooting for in previous chapters. This one was kind of a check-in-with-everybody before things start speeding up. I hope you guys liked it. :) It's finals week, so bring on summer! You know, until my 12 credits start up in 2 weeks. I've got a lot of ideas and hope to update again real soon. Thanks for all the support.

Red Mage- Yes, I plan on keeping the Handmaiden around. I hated not having her as a female PC and always wondered how it would play out. I'm having a lot of fun especially experimenting with the dynamic between her and Mical. I'm glad you're still enjoying the story.

Wook- Aww… thanks. You know, I'm never too sure about doing romance stuff, but I just can't ignore it here. Thanks for the encouragement… I know it's not my forte, and it helps when somebody tells me I'm getting it right. Thanks!

Nat- Muchas gracias, hon. Thanks to you, as well, for the kind words on the romance front. It's a struggle. :) And your right… cheesy as it was, KotOR 1 at least had a resolved romance plot, something I really missed in the sequel. It feels so good to put a little more depth to the whole thing. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Kristin- You're welcome. :) I'm gonna try and sort out the Darth Traya thing in some upcoming chapters, so thanks a bunch for your input on it. So many theories… wish it had been a little clearer in the game. Aw, hell… maybe I'll just make something up. Hehehehe. Thanks.

Foxfire- :wince: sorry for skipping the beta on this chapter, hon. Know you're out of town and just couldn't wait. I know this chapter is at a detriment for my lack of patience, but I promise I'll be good later. g> Thanks for all of your great input. God knows, I need it.

Snackfiend- I know what you mean with the inner Sith Lord. I love Atris as a villain because she's initially so non-villain-y. Very sinister and deceptive. Please let me know if you think my portrayal of her ever goes awry. You're now my official spotter on the evil-dude front. Thanks.

Maxie- Thanks for the kind words, hon. Actually having a great deal of fun exploring the game on the PC. Especially playing around with all the cheats out there on the net. Woo hoo! My brother can keep the damned x-box for all I care now. Until another game comes out that strikes my fancy. Like KotOR 3? Ahh… to dream…

Btw, I forgot in my a/n's for chapter nine to credit Darkgirl with the "wallowing in her own insanity" line regarding Atris. She used this enchanting turn of phrase in a review, and I said I was going to use it! So thanks, Darkgirl. :)

Adios, for now. Thanks, everybody!


	11. Chapter 11

The games aren't mine. The original story is. If you wanna sue me, knock yourself out… but you'll be wasting valuable attorney's fees on a broke-ass college student. No infringement intended.

Many many humble thanks to Foxfire for her support and fantastic beta-ing.

I may be a little premature in posting this… not sure if I'm quite happy with it. I've only rewritten it about 40 times. But I have a big week… or 10… on the horizon, and I wanted to get a good, meaty chapter up. Thanks a bunch for all the reviews, everybody. You make this so much fun to do. Much love to all.

* * *

Mission ran headlong into the familiar cabin of the _Ebon Hawk_, momentarily transported to another time. She could almost see Carth sitting in the pilot's seat in that awful orange flight jacket, Lyn standing behind him, using his head playfully as an armrest, looking out at the oceans of Manaan. Mission smiled despite herself, then frowned, tripping over an unseen pile of ship parts and tools.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," she moaned, leaning down to examine the damage. Fortunately, most of the miscellanea were tools, not vital components, but there was enough out of place to make flying the ship more difficult than she would have liked. She kicked some of the tools out of her way and toward a side bulkhead, then made her way to Carth's customary seat, glancing out the front window at the edges of the chaos currently gripping the little settlement.

The _Hawk_ was perched just out of sight of the fire she knew was still burning near the epicenter of the explosion, but she could see the smoke billowing out from behind the massive debris left over from the Sith assault almost five years ago. The darkness of it swelled up into the sky, too, looking almost benign against the stark blackness of the Tarisian night.

She plopped down into the worn cushions that felt like home and prayed to all relevant deities that the damned ship was still flyable, despite the cockpit's having been partially gutted. _Dammit, Parren. You're lucky Carth's not here to see what you've done to his ship, _she thought, holding her breath as she triggered the ignition.

"Thank _you_," Mission sighed as the engines whirred to life. She petted the dash panels affectionately, smirking at her own sentimentality.

"Visas found Tien. They are on their way," Juhani intoned, sneaking into the cockpit a pace behind her voice. Mission acknowledged her with little more than a nod, too intent on the preflight checks.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mission asked. "We don't know anything about what happened yet… we barely heard the blast before you and Visas started getting all Force-jumpy." Mission finally looked back at her Jedi friend after a few seconds went by without an answer. Juhani was making herself useful by inputting the coordinates Jolee had left with them shortly before they'd all parted ways. Mission had lost track of the datapad—quite carelessly, she could admit—over a year ago. She was glad at least Juhani had kept the future in mind better than she had.

"The Exile is not safe here, Mission," Juhani finally said.

Mission shook her head. "Can't she decide that for herself?"

"The Miraluka and I are in agreement. There is no doubt that this attack was an attempt on her life. And even if the Exile believes herself able to handle whatever contingencies may arise, she cannot protect everyone in harm's way." Juhani said. "Besides," she continued, "She cannot decide when she's unconscious." She nodded in the direction of the main viewer. Mission turned her head, following the Cathar's line of sight, catching Visas all but carrying Tien through the smoke toward the ship.

"Sithspit," she cursed, willing the pre-flight checks to hurry themselves up. The damned navicomputer still refused to cooperate, though. Must be why Tien had seen fit to take the cockpit apart. Or maybe it was the other way around.

Mission couldn't ignore the fact that Tien had been completely knocked out. She herself had managed to shrug off the odd grenade or mine blast back in the day, and she knew that Lyn had gotten to a point—by the time she'd learned about… that stuff that happened before—where she barely even felt the impact of a minor frag blast. She could almost feel them before they went off, giving her plenty of time to shield herself with the Force.

It frightened her more than she would readily admit that someone was gunning for the Jedi with whom she suddenly found herself throwing in her lot… Someone who knew it would take a hell of a lot to make sure she didn't get up again.

_But_, the errant, dark thought flitted through her mind, _if they really wanted her dead, judging by that blast, she would be. _Mission shivered the pessimism away and, realizing that the navicomputer still hadn't come fully online and Visas and Tien were halfway up the ramp, she whistled loudly, as though calling for her pet Kath.

"T3!" she shouted. "We _have _to get out of here! What's the deal with the navicomputer?"

She barely heard the warble he whistled back at her from some far corner of the ship, but interpreted it to mean that he was on the problem, whatever it was. Mission took a moment to look back out at the smoke still billowing, creeping closer and closer to the ship. The fire was down to a small glow and she realized that the smoke made it seem infinitely worse than it really was. She'd run by the blast site on her way to the _Hawk_ and knew that it had been incredibly precise—localized. But knowing that no one was killed and only a few people—besides Tien—were hurt at all, didn't stave off the guilt creeping into her heart as she absently fingered the familiar controls in front of her.

"I can't leave, Juhani. Not now. Not after everything we've built up here," she sighed. A moment ago, she remembered thinking only of making sure the Exile was alright. Why? Because she was going to find Lyn, find Revan, and bring her back. Something that no one close to the former Sith Lord would do, knowing that it wasn't what she wanted. And, consequently, likely impossible. The Exile, with her objective view of the situation, seemed to be the only one that _could_ do anything, and Mission had embraced the chance. Well, once she had decided that Tien hadn't been responsible for Revan's disappearance in the first place.

"I don't believe that Jedi Parren is in any condition to fly the ship, Mission. You have to go. I will stay," Juhani said carefully. Mission could tell from the hint of sadness in her voice that she wished desperately to go too, but neither woman could ignore the pull of their responsibility—or loyalty—to this place. It was so different now from the planet they'd grown up on, suffered on, years ago. It was more their home now than it had ever been, and neither wished to see that fade away.

She imagined this was how Carth felt about Telos. Why, in the end, he'd decided to stay with the Republic instead of futilely trying to track Revan down, half-cocked to who-knew-where on some dubious Jedi crusade.

Mission examined the Cathar carefully and Juhani looked back, trying to tell her with her eyes that this was the way things were supposed to be. She would have bet her last shirt that the next words out of her friend's mouth would be something to the effect of denouncing coincidence where the Force was concerned. Mission beat her to it.

She nodded. "I guess I've seen enough to know that things don't just _happen_ with you Jedi types," she said with a sideways grin. Juhani sighed with relief that they hadn't had to fight about this. That was what planning committee meetings were for, anyway. Not the cockpit of the _Ebon Hawk. _Not now.

"_We are on board and ready to depart," _Visas said over the comm. Juhani took that as her cue and stepped over toward Mission in the pilot's seat. The young Twi'lek looked up at her as Juhani gripped her shoulder.

"Be careful, Mission. I know you're capable of great things, but do not do anything stupid in accomplishing them."

Mission smirked, not willing to show just how much Juhani's few words touched her. She was the best friend—besides Big Z—that she'd ever had. More of a family to her than that deadbeat Griff had ever been. "Hey," she said, cheerfully. "It's _me_."

Juhani took a deep breath and shook her head, squeezing Mission's shoulder one last time before making her way swiftly from the cockpit and down the ramp. T3 warbled something through the comm and to her surprise, the navigation console sprang to life. She didn't waste a moment referencing the coordinates Juhani'd just programmed into the galaxy map.

Mission watched her through the main viewer as the Jedi stood alone on the makeshift landing pad in the ruins of Taris as the _Ebon Hawk_ lifted on her repulsors and spun up into the atmosphere.

* * *

She'd come to depend on them. An addiction, like Spice. A guilty vice that she relished. They whispered to her—the secrets of the Sith unfolding only for her. The high was… indescribable. She meditated with it, letting its lullaby sooth her as she assimilated the information gleaned from the prisoner's mind, hoping the knowledge of the Sith would help her to decipher his more inaccessible memories, shed light on events she herself, as a Jedi, knew nothing about.

"_Ever the historian, Darth Traya. Only one like us would appreciate these simple objects as the treasures they are."_

Atris remained in her meditative pose, cross-legged on the floor of her quarters aboard the _Firestorm_, a single holocron positioned before her. Even with her eyes closed, she could see it—its energy—the power of the knowledge within it great enough to manifest in the Force.

The glow of the holocron fade briefly before brightening again, Kreia's presence, her imprint long left as the last Darth Traya flickering within it.

Then the presence was _there._ Not just within the holocron, but without—all around her in the room. The holocron whispered to her in Kreia's voice—_Be mindful, Darth Traya. Your web is fragile and, like all carefully laid plans, will tangle and tear to spite you. Use your passion, let your anger and resentment fuel you, but do not let your feelings blind you._

She basked in the wisdom. Truly one may not have total understanding of the Force without walking paths both light and dark. And the light had left her empty.

_Tien rolled her eyes and Atris pursed her lips. She scowled as her friend closed down her lightsaber, trying to hide a smile. She had beaten her again, the sparring session having been disappointingly short as usual. Atris resisted the urge to throw her weapon into the stream beside them, settling instead for dropping it on the ground and losing it in the tall grass. She plopped to the ground herself, sighing and rolling onto her back. She stared up at the pink sigh, watching Dantooine's moons show themselves in the dimming sunlight._

_She felt Tien fall next to her. She poked Atris playfully. _

"_Would you please stop sulking? Atris, it's just… it's just not your strength right now. You know, I could never have the kind of—of _understanding_ you have. I _have_ to be good with a lightsaber because quite honestly, I couldn't talk myself out of anything to save my life. You have talent for that."_

_Atris shook her head. She was trying so hard. Tien had been kind enough to work with her, practicing her saber forms in exchange for lessons in the more contemplative aspects of the Force, in which Atris excelled. The historian was grateful for the help—and Jedi Parren's friendship over the years they had resided at the enclave—but could not quell the resentment growing within her. She hoped Tien could not feel it, but she envied her. Where Tien seemed to be grasping most of what Atris had been sharing with her, Atris seemed unable to satisfactorily achieve her goals with the blade. _

"_I'm afraid that is little consolation, Tien," she sighed. "With continued practice, you may someday have as great a knowledge of the Force as Master Vandar."_

"_And with continued practice, your skill with the blade may someday surpass Master Qatra's. Stop being so hard on yourself." Tien rolled over on her side, propping her head up with her right arm. She smiled brightly and Atris found herself smiling back. Tien had a way of making one believe something—even if deep down, one thought it was more likely impossible._

"_You're a good friend, Tien," she said. _

"_And so are you, Atris." She reached over and picked Atris' lightsaber from the grass beside them and handed it to her. Atris accepted it, sitting up and attaching it to her belt. "And no matter how bad you think you are with your lightsaber—" Tien continued. Atris made a face, making Tien smile "—I can think of no one I'd rather have fighting at my side someday."_

Atris seethed—Darth Traya seethed. The memory of the betrayal suddenly a fresh wound in her heart. Tien had lied to her then, over a decade ago outside the enclave. Within that month, Tien had left for the War, showing there _was_ another she would rather have standing with her in battle—Revan.

"_She asked you to go with her," _Kreia reminded her.

_Atris rose to her feet and bent down, offering Tien her hand, helping her up. The wind blew through the grass, chilling her as the sun disappeared behind the hills surrounding the Sandral Estate to the south. _

"_And all you would have to do is ask. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you—make sure you do not do anything overly reckless." _

Atris disregarded her own remembered response to Tien's casual invitation, but the old woman did not, her voice echoing through the Force. _"Your betrayal is your own," _Kreia said, repeated the very words she had said to her in life, in her meditation chamber on Telos.

"_You promised me! You promised you would come with me—that we would fight _together_! I have never asked anything of you, Atris, and when I do, you act like you don't even know me… Like I am no one to whom you hold any loyalty…" Tien said, her fists clenched, eyes brimming with barely held tears. _

_Atris turned her back on the other woman. She heard Tien choke back what sounded suspiciously like a small cry. Atris forced her own regret down, refusing to let it show. She refused to give in… refused to let Tien talk her into leaving behind everything she had been working so hard for all her life. Maybe Tien was willing to leave the Order—there was obviously something in play that seemed to make that choice an easy one for her friend—but Atris had no motivation. It seemed her friendship was not enough. She blocked her mind from Tien as she felt the other woman try to sneak a probing tendril into it. She would not let Tien see how closed her heart had become. _

"_I will not go to war against the Council's wishes," she said softly. She felt anger begin to wash over her. Tien made no attempt to hide it._

"_The _Council_," Tien hissed with contempt, "is sitting on its hands while innocent people die. While people's… people's _families_ are being murdered, killed merely to get the Republic's attention. We are supposed to be the protectors of the innocent, Atris. The guardian's of peace in the galaxy. Hasn't anything in your old books taught you that sometimes the only way to regain peace is through war? Haven't you learned anything about the evil that exists? That it must be _fought_ to be defeated?"_

"_My 'old books' have taught me to trust in the wisdom of the Council. They have their reasons, Tien." _

"_You mean _you_ have your reasons," she countered. Atris winced, facing Tien only to see her face red and her brow furrowed. Tien bit her lip and threw her arms up in frustration. Atris remained calm and impartial. _

"_Do not speak to me in such a tone of disrespect, Jedi Parren," she snapped. _

_Tien snorted. "Don't worry, _Master_ Atris. I have nothing more to say." Tien shook her head. "I'd hoped that with your appointment to the Council, there might finally be a voice of reason there. I see now I was wrong…" she whispered. Tien looked at her for a moment, as if trying to bore into her skull with her eyes, before turning and leaving Atris' quarters. _

Atris opened her eyes to see Kreia standing before her, her shape blurred and distorted, a twisted smile on her lips. Atris sneered at her. "Why do you not haunt your apprentice?" she asked. "Why do you follow me, goad me as you do?" Kreia's form knelt before her.

"_One who knows betrayal knows her sisters—deception, manipulation. She is not burdened by the likes of guilt, of remorse. Only one who knows betrayal may dole it out, may do what needs to be done."_

"I am not your pawn."

"_No?" _Kreia laughed, the sound echoing through Atris, penetrating her with a cold gust. _"Delude yourself with what platitudes you must, but know that when the time comes, you will accomplish nothing without me. Your path will never be completed without the knowledge I hold, and your greatness will never be cemented without the keys I keep," _Kreia sighed hurriedly. Atris' eyes narrowed. _"Play whatever games you will with the fool, Atton, if it feeds your power, if it feeds your understanding of the Exile, but know that even the Exile is merely an obstacle that must be overcome on your journey."

* * *

_

_Tien held her breath, stopping at the intersection of two identical halls, the stone walls of each seeming to go on forever into darkness. The pale lighting in the ancient structure was insufficient and Tien reached out with her other senses, seeing the way Visas had taught her, closing her eyes altogether. _

_There was a slight breeze whistling from behind her, ruffling her hair and chilling her fingers. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her lightsaber, carried in her left hand, but did not activate it. The light would only blind her while her eyes readjusted. _

_She could feel… something. A presence, familiar, but not _just_ as she remembered. Like an experience of déjà vu. Was it really familiar at all? Really remembered? Or was she only deluding herself? No, it was really there, a someone behind her. Tien's stomach fluttered in anticipation, but she didn't move—partly because she didn't want to tip off whoever was following her that she knew and partly because—well, if she didn't turn around, it was easy for her to believe nothing was there. Like if she didn't see it, it couldn't see her. _

_Her perception jarred without warning, the 'it' suddenly transforming into a certain 'he,' a he with anger radiating off of him and through her, like heat from a fire. Tien turned quickly, igniting her double-blade as she did, the violet arms extending just in time to catch a red blade striking down at her. _

_The black silhouette behind the blade stopped his attack and doubled back into a quick defensive posture before swinging his lightsaber back around from his right side, aiming for Tien's neck. She brought her lower blade up and blocked it, holding her weapon vertically, shielding her body. He attacked again, bringing the crimson blade down from over his head. He was taller and had a longer reach, but Tien saw him coming and just stepped away, blocking the blow and dancing around to his side to throw off his balance. _

_She lifted her hand in the second it took him to readjust and _pushed_ him away with a Force wave. It didn't catch him completely, but despite his resistance he stumbled, his blade shutting off as he fell against the wall. Tien deactivated her lightsaber and punched him, as hard as she could, but he caught her hand, just when she thought she'd had him. He squeezed her fist in his hand, twisting her arm awkwardly. He started to laugh when she winced and she looked at his masked face. She could only see his eyes. _

_She knew those eyes… Knew that laugh. _

Tien opened her eyes, gasping. "Atton!" she squeaked, pulling herself up without even looking around at where she was. There wasn't time. She had to get to him…

Her hands fumbled at her belt, searching for her lightsaber. It wasn't there. She stood up, on the verge of panic. She reached out with her senses. Her bare feet were cold against a metal floor, her arms were uncovered as well. She had goose bumps.

There were people around. Not many, but familiar. Warm. There was the slight hum of a hyperdrive underfoot. The lights gradually got brighter and Tien blinked again. The medbay on the Hawk. She half expected to see the Disciple—Mical—_how did she know that?_—but she was alone in the confined space and rather confused as to how she had gotten there.

The med bay on the _Hawk_ was dimly lit at the moment, but brighter than the alien corridors she was just in. A dream. It was just a dream—a nightmare. _But so real,_ she thought. _I can still feel him… _

She ventured cautiously into the main hold. T3 was there, inspecting the holo-projector on the long range communications port. He beeped at her cheerfully as she passed him on her way to the cockpit. She paused at the threshold to the tiny room, wondering at the starlines through the front windows and the blue head tails between her and the ship's controls.

"Mission?" Tien asked quietly. The ship felt so silent, like the Jedi archives at midnight. She was reluctant to disturb the uncommon tranquility.

"Hi," the Twi'lek replied, her voice equally soft. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Tien walked the rest of the way into the cockpit, falling into the co-pilot's seat and pulling her knees up to her chin. The glanced at the gauges and controls on the dash, trying to get an idea of where they were and how long they'd been getting there. She sighed, catching the chronometer display. Twenty-four hours ago, she'd left Visas with a hydrospanner on Taris…

"I… tired. And—"

"Juhani didn't think it was a good idea to stay on Taris after what happened. Hope you don't mind," Mission said, as if sensing the Exile's uncertainty.

Tien nodded. She remembered a mine. She had been walking toward the control center, when she noticed a small piece of metal in the middle of a recently cleared walkway. It was half hidden by blown dirt and ash. She'd knelt down to inspect it, to disarm it, then a concussion blast. It hadn't been a concussive mine… it was just a frag mine… it shouldn't have felt like that…

"Visas found you. The blasts were pretty loud… she and Juhani seemed to know right away what happened. Do you remember anything?"

Tien shook her head, trying to think. "Some… but it was just a frag mine…"

"A _dozen _frag mines set off by a few concussion grenades." Tien let loose a low whistle.

"Was… was anyone else hurt?" the Jedi asked tentatively. Mission shook her head.

"It could have been much worse. You were the target… no one else was seriously injured, thank the Force," Mission mused.

"But I wonder why they didn't finish the job. I mean, no normal bounty hunter would go that far only to let a pay day like _you _get away…" Mission shrugged as though bounty hunter attacks weren't anything out of the ordinary. "Anyway, Juhani did her 'disturbance in the Force' thing, so she and I warmed up the _Hawk_ while Visas brought you back here. Bet you've got an enemies list about a parsec long, huh?"

"Yeah," Tien murmured. "Something like that…"

"And you could have mentioned that you were taking Revan's ship apart system by system. It would have been helpful to know that half the navicomputer circuitry was lying out on the deck in here _before_ we attempted our little getaway."

Tien let out a frustrated huff, but hid a small smile. "Sorry. I wasn't really planning any 'getaways."

"Yeah, well, you're just lucky Carth isn't here to see what you're doing to her. You'd probably still be knocked out in the medbay. And not by any grenade."

"Where are we going?" Tien asked, somewhat drowsily. Mission quirked a grin.

"Someplace safe," she answered. Tien rolled her eyes.

"Do I get to know where?"

Mission spun out of Atton's chair and made her way to the galaxy map behind her. Tien followed, noticing a new planet in the navicomputer's databank. "Where is that?" she asked Mission, assuming the Twi'lek had been the one to input the new coordinates.

"Yavin. It's a gas giant out on—"

"The Rim. The fourth moon was the Massassi home world, where Exar Kun started his campaign against the Jedi over 40 years ago. The last Jedi to report from there said they had all been wiped out… nothing left but the scattered remnants of their civilization and pieces of Kun's war machine," interrupted the Exile.

"Yeah. _Safe_," Mission replied, rather smugly.

"How is Yavin safe, exactly? It's supposedly a center of Dark Side energy. It's even been argued that the place itself had almost as much to do with Kun's fall as his experiences leading up to it. We can't go there," Tien stated, crossing her arms and leaving little room for dissent.

"What are you afraid of?" Mission answered. Tien was taken aback by the abruptness of the Twi'lek's observation.

"I am _not_—" Tien paused and took a deep breath. "I'm not _afraid_, I just… question the wisdom of going someplace so—"

"Deserted? Remote? The last place anyone in their right mind would go, therefore the last place anyone would think to look for an Exile Jedi like you?" Mission finished for her, a broad grin on her face. Tien bit her lip.

"I barely even know you," Tien said softly, silently admitting defeat. "Why are you helping us?"

Mission pursed her lips and went back to Atton's chair, sinking back into it comfortably, as though she'd been in it many times before.

"You might want to check on Visas," Mission finally answered, avoiding the question entirely. "She refused to leave your side until all of your internal injuries were taken care of. It took a long time, and I think she's all Jedi-ed out."

Tien nodded, willing to save her questions for later. If they were headed for the Yavin system, it was a safe bet they'd have some time on their hands in hyperspace. "What about Juhani?" she asked, just before reaching out with the Force to see if she could sense the other Jedi. She couldn't.

"We couldn't _both_ leave Taris," Mission replied simply. Tien knew without a doubt that there was far more to it than just those five words, but merely nodded and rose stiffly, seeking out Visas Marr and entrusting their ship and their lives to this Twi'lek girl she'd barely come to know in a week's time, surprised to realize how easily trust came to her where Vao was concerned.

* * *

Okay, I finally settled on working a little bit on Atris and the whole Darth Traya controversy for the middle scene here, after much, much deliberation. Please let me know if it works or not. Needs more or okay? I was inspired by something of an impulse I had the other day to play the Atris fight scene again on Telos. When I play, I always let her live, but I was feeling kinda darksidy the other day and decided to just kill her. Try it in your games. It's kinda cool. :)

Alice- what can I say? Madam, you are too kind. :) Thank you so much for taking the time to be so careful in letting me know exactly what you're liking so I can try to keep up more of the same. It's a great help, and of course, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Thanks. And yes, the Disciple's name really is Mical. There's a scene that says it on Dantooine when you're playing as a male. Some of my fantastic reviewers helped me out with that one. And if there are any pointers at all you could give me on writing a good cockpit, I would me elated to hear them. Thank you. :)

Lunatic Pandora- Yup, Mical's name is Mical. :) Hope you're enjoying all the Atton-peril. I sure am. Mwahahaha.

MicroChips- You're a peach, hon. I'm so glad you like the story and thanks for taking the time to read it and to review. Hope to hear from you again.

Snackfiend- Oh, Germany! Can I go, too? Please? (It was 110 degrees out today, and Europe sounds oh so much balmier.) Thanks for your observation about the Handmaiden. In all honesty, I haven't gotten very far in my LSM Male game and I'm flying a little blind yet, where she's concerned. I'm glad she's coming off well, so far. Thanks. And yeah… Atton. 'nuff said. :)

Kristen- Your good luck wish made all the difference. :) I've been in college for a full 4 years now, and just had my best semester by far. Thanks for the good karma. Think I'm gonna stick with the longer chapters, especially now that the plots are just running around in my head with little regard for my sanity. Glad you're diggin' the vibe.

Darkgirl- thanks for all of your support hon, and damn that review interface. You know, I'll probably get some mysterious email 20 years from now from saying I have reviews… Thank you for all the effort… that you're reading at all is a great compliment for me. :)

Thanks again, everybody. Happy summer! Keep cool, and I'll update again as soon as I can. Plan to have my notebook very handy whilst attending summer school. Which starts on Tuesday. Egad…

Peace.


	12. Chapter 12

_Insert standard disclaimer here. You guys know the drill… _

_Ugh... trying to get used to the new upload interface. Grr..._

_Many thanks to Foxfire for her ever patient, ever genius betas and mahalo plenty to Alice the Raven for her invaluable ideas. The lightsaber duel, paltry as it may seem, is for her. Any mistakes left in this bad boy are my own._

_More a/n's at the end, as usual…

* * *

_

"You are nothing more than an abomination. You are a _thing_ that denies its true nature. A hunter who has made himself into his own prey."

Atton braced himself, gritting his teeth against the consuming pain of the force cage's torture program. She'd finally tired of the idle taunts and mind games and moved on toward the more conventional methods of—

"Perhaps your delusion is deeper than I'd thought," she mused. Atton's stomach tightened as she activated the electromagnetic field, coursing scalding energy though his body, tearing through him and leaving only the barest trickle of air in his lungs. He glared at her, his hands clenched with a fury that his body knew, even if his mind still somehow managed to force it down. He gasped for air, fighting to remain upright.

But every jolt sapped him of more and more… and he knew he only had so much he could give before there was simply nothing left for her to take. And it seemed so effortless—for her to just… _take_…

_He watched the Jedi walk right into the trap, absently making sure his rebreather mask was in place. The knight never saw it coming, thinking himself to be safe on this backwater planet on an obscure mission from the Council. _

_Jaq jumped down silently from his hidden alcove above a set of dingy steps in the alley behind the cantina as the Jedi set off the gas mines hidden all around him. He watched dispassionately as the knight began to cough, drawing his lightsaber even as he began to suffocate. Jaq knew the Jedi would be trying to call upon the Force to counteract the poison—he'd planned for that. He knew the gas wouldn't kill him—that was the best part. _

"Perhaps you are even so bold as to liken yourself to Revan?" she asked incredulously, her voice rising with a hint of amusement as she stepped away from the control panel and closer to Atton. It would be so easy, he thought, so easy to reach out with the Force, crush her spine, set fire to every electrical circuit in the room… let her lie paralyzed as the flames swallowed her up. He'd die right there with her if it meant he could see it…

"Revan… 'The Prodigal Knight," Atris laughed. "Revan, the destroyer of worlds, murderer of millions—if she could be redeemed, welcomed back into the fold and pardoned of her crimes through some small acts of penance, surely one so relatively guiltless as yourself may change as well? Earn forgiveness?"

_Jaq smiled under his mask, exhilarated by the moment—fueled by it. This one would be easy. This one he would simply kill. He approached the Jedi from behind. This Jedi—only recently knighted, Jaq knew—was barely more than a Padawan Learner. The Jedi would not be able to defend himself while healing the damage the gas had already done to him. _

_The assassin brought his hands up toward the Jedi's jaw, grasping his face with his gloved hands without the slightest hesitation—knowing the motions by heart and executing them with expertise. _

_The Jedi's neck snapped before he could raise his already glowing yellow blade. The weapon died and fell from the Jedi's hands as the Jedi fell from Jaq's. _

"Or are you only doing it to please her? To be closer to the woman you covet?" Atris drawled. Still standing before him, she twitched a finger and the control panel a meter away lit up again. Atton bit his tongue, but the scream still came more from surprise than pain. The pain was almost manageable now—something familiar. He swallowed the blood when he could finally catch his breath. He realized he was no longer standing, but half-kneeling, half-sitting. He didn't remember falling. Like the last time he'd felt this helpless. It was becoming far too common for comfort.

"_Atton Rand, Sith assassin or Jedi Knight? Surely you are one more than the other. Are you really Jedi, or do your deceptions lie so deep that you cannot be truthful even with yourself?" Atris asked. Atton stood ready, sensing a rare opportunity. Whatever she was playing at, he finally had the advantage of being out of the force cage and that gave him hope. He had a weapon in his hands. Tien's weapon. He could still feel her on it—like she was in the room there next to him. _

_He dropped into one of his reflexive Echani battle stances as Atris drew her own red-bladed lightsaber. The Handmaiden had risen from her former position near him on the floor and, still weaponless and practically dismissed by her mistress, she backed away toward the door. _

_Atton opened himself to the Force, preparing for battle, and felt her sense of uncertainty and even fear. He could relate, he thought, then Atris struck, the thrust of her lighstaber quick and surgical, though lacking much strength behind it. Atton dodged easily and tried to parry, but the maneuver was sloppy and he found himself just dodging again rather than blocking._

_There were very good reasons why he only carried the one, very simple, very _single_-bladed lightsaber he'd found and made his own. For one thing, he was much better with a blaster than at saber-dueling. If he thought the single blade was hard, the double was damn near impossible. _

"If that is the case, if you do this for her, for some emotional satisfaction, then perhaps I should just leave you to it," she sneered.

Atton held his breath as the pain began to marginally subside. He tried to ignore the twitch growing more pronounced in his left arm. All of the muscles in his body seemed to contract at once, fueled by the raw energy driven into him. His arm began to spasm. Atris saw it and smiled. Atton imagined how good it would feel to spit in her face. How good it would feel to reach out and—

"If it is indeed this… passion that drives you—this lust, this ache for her, then you are already condemned. The dark side is in you even now. It has already marked you to fall, and all that remains is for you to embrace its power. If it is this that drives you, you need only admit that you are no Jedi—and your strength will know no bounds."

Atton choked out a feeble laugh.

"With the power of the Force—of the dark side—there will be no way she could resist you."

Atton snorted, his head lolling in uncoordinated jerks. _I _want _her to resist me,_ he thought. _She's smart to resist me…_

"You… you think… I don't _know_? Don't know… what I am?" he wheezed.

"_That all you've got?" he taunted her, trying to distract her from the fact that he had no idea what he was doing. She grinned broadly—a smile that almost made her look _nice_ if not for the malicious glint in her eye. Atton rolled his eyes at her and tried to focus himself more intensely, calling on the Force for greater control of his weapon. _

_Almost immediately, he felt more empowered, energized. He coaxed it out, entreating its help as Atris struck again, her fiery blade sweeping wide in a lateral cut at his abdomen. He felt it coming, and jumped back in time, leaving the tip of her blade barely searing the fabric of his tunic. He didn't hesitate in returning the gesture, mindful of his feet and the extra-long weapon in his hands, he spun the hilt in his right hand, letting the momentum pull the white blade around and over itself and finally into his opponent's space. She blocked, bringing her lightsaber up horizontally and catching his blow on the top of her blade as he brought his down._

_He saw an opening, the weaknesses her block had opened up in her stance, and spun his whole body around, reversing the downward motion of the blade and levering the weight in the opposite direction—he brought the occupied blade's twin up under Atris' saber, the centripetal motion of both the spin of his body and the blade fuel the blow's power. _

_She somehow reversed her posture and caught his saber with hers. Atris pushed back and stared at him, stared into his eyes as if he was nothing. As if he was no challenge to her at all. She looked entirely serene, standing there, her blade pushing back against his as the hilt of Atton's lightsaber grew slippery with the sweat from his palms. He breathed deeply, staring back. Pushing back. The only sound in the room was his heartbeat and the sizzle of the two blades warring with each other for supremacy._

_Then, he released all pressure and feinted, stepping back and away from her, opening his stance, trying to goad her into striking him again. She became sloppy when she was on the offensive, he observed, and when she saw that he was practically giving her a free shot, she took it, and Atton swept his blade— _

_White light exploded from behind his eyes. _

_He was no longer fighting a Jedi Master-cum-Sith Lord. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to ascertain why he couldn't breathe and why the flesh on his arms felt like it had burned away. _

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump—

_Visas talking. _

_Tien talking. Hurting. _

_Dark. _

_Atton struggled to hold on to something real, but he couldn't. His mind had stopped working altogether, consumed by the vision. In the back of his consciousness, he could feel his body, his head, impact the bulkhead that had been about five meters behind him in his cell. He'd lost. _

_Tien… where are you? He wished she would answer him, barely giving a second thought to the idea that Atris would hear… He felt selfish, but didn't really care… He'd lost, anyway._

"You think… I don't know… what you want?" he struggled to say it, staring Atris down. His eyes seemed to be the only part of him able to do what he told them to. "What you're trying… to do?"

"Of course you know. I told you I would not make the mistake of underestimating you, murderer. You will lead me to the Exile—your connection to her is strong. Strong enough to follow. And Jedi Parren _will_ find Revan… it is only a matter of time."

"What's so important… about Revan?"

Atris raised an eyebrow and leaned down to get a better look at him. "Absolutely nothing," she said smugly. "Like you, she is nothing more than a single component of the greater machine. A waypoint on the journey."

Atton's teeth ground loudly, drowning every other sound from his mind. "How very philosophical," he grunted; by now, so far beyond caring what she might do to him if he got her mad. She was already mad. Insane, crazy, a few cards short of a winning hand…

Atris merely smiled in response and turned, her white robes swishing around her as she glided toward the door. The Handmaiden stood guard beside it. She nodded to her mistress as she left, then turned to Atton before following Atris. Just like before… he could feel her mind begin to work, the uncertainty growing. He wondered what that meant.

* * *

_How hard was it, really, to stay awake for half an hour?_ Bao-Dur wondered, entering the cockpit of the tiny ship, ducking his head. Mira was curled up in the pilot's seat—the only seat in the _Blue Moon's_ cockpit—snoring a little. He smirked. She'd pulled the edges of her robe up around her chin, her short red hair falling down over her closed eyes.

It occurred to Bao-Dur that he had never seen her sleep. She'd never seemed to, always at work making more grenades or working out with Tien or the Disciple. He knew she struggled with the Force, its use never coming to her as easily as it seemed to for the others.

They were all so… serious, so focused all the time. The Disciple and the Miraluka—the Force seemed to consume them in ways he couldn't understand; even Atton had lost some of his scoundrel's abandon upon asking the General to train him. To the contrary, Mira remained largely unchanged. She was… far easier for his more analytical than philosophical mind to wrap itself around.

"I'm not asleep," she mumbled half-heartedly. Bao-Dur's forehead wrinkled a little in amusement.

"I believe you," he said, glancing over her to view the dash panels.

"We're still on—" she yawned "—course."

Bao-Dur smiled, barely suppressing a chuckle. "I said I believe you," he replied, reaching over Mira to shut off the back-up power grid so he could do some work on the deflector shield generators while they were still in hyperspace.

"Why?" Mira murmured. Bao-Dur pulled back and moved to the console on the back cockpit bulkhead.

"Why do I believe you?"

"Why do you have to work on the shields? They're fine."

"How'd you know that's what I'm doing?" He asked, somewhat surprised.

"You just told me."

Bao-Dur was sure he hadn't mentioned his intentions, but shrugged it off. His memory must be getting worse with every hour he went without sleep. He just shook his head at the question, but couldn't shake a feeling of paranoia, like his privacy was being invaded. He felt an inexplicable need to retreat, to protect what was his. He looked at her, wanting suddenly to hide away in a corner, buried in wiring up to his elbows. Circuitry was safe. Circuitry, he understood.

"It's just something to do, I suppose," he answered hastily. Mira finally stirred, sitting up. Bao-Dur left the cockpit, unwilling to say anything further on the subject. Mira, suddenly wide awake, bolted from her seat to follow him.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, cornering him in the main hold. Bao-Dur looked up at her from his position before a low, open panel, confused.

"What? Nothing's wrong. What's wrong with you?" he said, trying to turn back to his work and silently urging her to leave him alone. His question was obviously rhetorical, but Mira hadn't caught it.

"I…" Mira didn't know how to answer him. How could she explain the sinking feeling she'd had when she asked him why he was fixing the shields? How could she tell him how… hurt… she felt? He had always been open to her—never hiding himself or viewing her with suspicion, even after she'd chosen to become a Jedi. Then suddenly, when she asked that one question, it was as if he locked her out, leaving her empty of his presence. Where she had never once felt _alone_ since leaving Telos with him, she now felt sad and isolated. And she damn well wanted to know why.

"I know something's wrong, Bao-Dur, so spit it out," she said, projecting an air of authority toward him.

"Or you'll what?" Bao-Dur countered jokingly. Mira wasn't laughing. In fact, her mind was racing so fast that a million questions came to her at once. Like she'd phase-shifted out of the surreal blur of the last couple of months and was suddenly back in a cold, desolate, tangible reality. And he was all she had to grab on to, to keep it from knocking her off her feet. And, she realized, she didn't even know him. Not really.

"What's your deal, anyway? Now that I think about it," she mused, "all I really know about you is… hmm… lemme think. Oh, yeah. _Nothing_."

Bao-Dur stopped what he was doing and sat back against the bulkhead. He sighed, glancing up at Mira who hadn't moved, but was staring at him with a rare intensity. "What brought this on?" he finally asked quietly. He watched her face soften and her tense body relax. She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head. She sighed, then dropped to the floor next to him.

"I'm sorry, you're right. It's silly," she shrugged, trying to push away her previous uncertainty. What would telling him her feelings change, anyway—if she said something. It wasn't like Bao-Dur was shutting her out on purpose. He probably didn't even realize that she could pick up on his moods the way she did. He'd only think she was being paranoid, probably.

"It isn't or you wouldn't have said anything," he answered in that obnoxiously soft and understanding way that he always seemed to have. They remained silent for what seemed like a long while, neither willing to say anything, each content to sit where they were on the cold metal deck plating of their little ship.

"I… I'm not used to being so alone all the time. It's so quiet… sometimes I feel like I've gone deaf. Like there are still people, there's still life all around me, but somehow I can't hear it anymore," Mira said quietly, tentatively. "It was really hard leaving Nar Shaddaa," she whispered, "Especially after realizing how big a part of me it is."

Bao-Dur looked carefully at his companion's face. She refused to look at him, hanging her head, embarrassed and insecure. He pushed down a sudden surge of regret. He'd hoped she trusted him by now, hoped she knew she could tell him anything. They were in this together, and he didn't take that bond lightly.

"I don't pretend to know anything about the Force—not the way you do. But you're not alone, Mira. I know I'm not much, but I don't plan on going anywhere. I'm _here_."

"Sometimes, you are," Mira answered with a huff. He caught a fleeting expression of surprise on her face, as if she hadn't intended to say that.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not willing to let this one slide. Mira averted her gaze and started chewing on the inside of her cheek, nervously. She reached out with the Force to find that his curiosity had brought down his involuntary mental barriers. She sighed, taking comfort in the feel of his open mind. She listened for a moment to the enigma of his stray thoughts, unable to translate the garbled mess, but taking solace in the sound nonetheless.

"Sometimes… you're just _not_…" she said, unable to quite explain.

"Not what?" he probed a little harder. The unintelligible Bao-Dur thoughts in Mira's mind seemed to rise in pitch, asking the question too. She felt better, hearing him both ways. More secure. It was like watching someone's lips when they were talking even though you could hear them just fine. It was easier to trust two senses than just one.

"Not always… _here_," she tried again. "_Open_… to me."

Bao-Dur's eyes widened. "You read my thoughts?" he asked, his tone barely lower, darker. Mira winced. His thoughts mirrored his voice. She half expected them to go silent again, but they stayed. Bao-Dur still trusted her, somehow… for the moment.

"I… yes! No… I can't… I can't _read_ your mind… I mean, I've _tried_, but I can't—"

"You don't have any right," he said. Sure enough, Mira felt bereft as Bao-Dur shut her out again. She hated herself for wanting to cry over this. Too alone, too quiet, too mistrusted. Too much. She gritted her teeth.

"You don't understand!" she said, her voice getting very close to a yell. She felt wound up tighter than a synthestretch band and about to snap.

"Then _make_ me understand!" he replied, his voice louder and more intense than Mira thought she'd ever heard it. It startled her, clicking her mind over into a desperate defensive posture. He'd just _challenged_ her…

"You're all I have, alright! I've never needed anyone before in my life, and now I need someone—I need to _know_ someone's there and you keep… you keep fraggin' shutting me out! You still don't trust me, do you? After all this time, you feel like you have to protect yourself from me, and it pisses me off!" Mira exploded, standing up and throwing her arms into the air. When she stopped, she felt spent; panting, her head hurting from gritting down on her teeth so hard. It had felt good to be angry about something again, even if she knew it was wrong.

"I _do_ trust you," he said from his stunned position on the floor. "I thought _you_ didn't trust _me_. And what do you mean, 'shutting you out?'"

"You keep… _hiding_ from me, like you don't want me to know where you are. All I want… I've… I guess I'm just used to having you buzzing around in my head. I'm not _trying_ to hear it, you're just _there. _And when you turn it off, when you hide from me… Bao-Dur, it… it _hurts_," she said, her voice thick and watery.

"When have I ever hidden from you, Mira? You're the one who kept taking off on Nar Shaddaa. _You're _the one _I_ couldn't keep track of—"

Mira rolled her eyes dramatically and knelt down in front of him. "Not you," she said, grabbing his head between her hands. "_You_, you dense son of a Boma."

Her eyes, more lost than he thought he'd ever seen them, begged Bao-Dur to finally understand, even as he felt a flicker of something begin to burn in a back corner of his mind. He looked back at Mira, instinctively knowing that that little light in his darkness was her, and imagined himself letting her in.

Mira visibly relaxed, closing her eyes with relief that he was finally _getting _it. Bao-Dur marveled at the feeling, wondering at the little spark of life that he knew was Mira, poking into his head. He felt… opened to a larger world.

"But I don't have the Force. How can I feel you like that?" he asked, regretting the awful way he'd reacted to her admission having tried to do this before. She shook her head.

"Maybe you don't have to have it. Maybe all you had to do was let me do the work and then just… accept the call," she said, as surprised as he was.

"Do you feel better?" he asked. He knew, as if the knowledge had just flooded in, what Mira needed. And it even made sense—even before becoming a Jedi, she'd had this innate talent for finding people. They were a part of her, even strangers she'd never met or talked to or even knew existed. And now, here they were, just the two of them alone in the bigness of space. She'd probably never experienced this kind of solitude before. Where he valued it, she feared it. Lives… people. People were her gift. She needed them. Needed him.

"Yes," she said, sitting back and pulling her hands away from his face. "Thank you." She looked at him, tears of stress and anger and sadness refusing to fall from her stubborn eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Bao-Dur shook his head, scooting closer to her and hesitantly wrapping his biological arm around her, his hand moving to her neck and pushing her head gently onto his shoulder.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Mira. I just wish… I wish you'd talked to me sooner…" he breathed. I pang of remorse shot through him for having missed all the signs of his friend's imminent reaction. After everything, he should have realized… should have known… that one or both of them were in for some delayed shock. "I wish I knew what to do to help you. Maybe… maybe I should have insisted that the Disciple come with you instead of me, then you'd have someone who could…"

His little Mira-glimmer in his head felt lighter, happier—relieved. He stopped talking when Mira squeezed his hand. He got it—the Disciple irked the hell out of her, anyway. They were all right where they were supposed to be, Bao-Dur included, Force or no.

He felt like an idiot for concentrating so hard on the perfectly functional shields when he had something right in front of him to fix that was really broken.

* * *

The image snapped and hissed, but despite the occasional static, the view was unmistakable. Atris' conjecture had been accurate; the HK-51 unit tracked the Exile to Taris. The Handmaiden skimmed the readout accompanying the video of Tien Parren walking upon the ruined planet's surface with a Cathar female. The droid reported its standing orders carried out. Parren had been… encouraged to depart Taris. The assassin droid had mapped the _Ebon Hawk's _trajectory as matching a flight plan to the Yavin system.

The Echani warrior considered the information before her, absorbing it and its implications. _It would be so simple_, she thought. _To issue the command for the droid to initiate its self-destruct. The Jedi would be safe, and Atris would be none the wiser…_

She thought about her brief conversation with Parren on Telos. It seemed like a lifetime ago. _What does the Force feel like?_

If she could not protect the Jedi in her midst, perhaps she may at least be able to buy some time for the Exile. She felt that her mistress' prisoners might be gratified by that as well. Some small consolation for their suffering.

Without a further thought, she abused her mistress' trust and deleted the files the droid sent back to the _Firestorm_ then entered the authorization codes for the machine to destroy itself. She spun out of the auxiliary communications room, ignoring the five or six Sith soldiers looking up from their own consoles as she swept out of the small room. To their credit, the Sith—Kinrath hatchlings that they were—had not yet bothered her in any way. Perhaps they were more perceptive than she'd thought—they knew how much she hated them. Or they merely feared her mistress… as was she did.

Brianna quelled the worry rising in her heart, the uncertainty, and tried to replace it with focus and anticipation for what lay ahead. She had always expected that the time would come for her to fulfill the duty Atris had long ago set before her and her sisters, that the time would come that she would be required to stand against the evil that would deign to destroy the Jedi—the last of the Order. That had been her purpose, the reason for her presence on Telos… for her loyalty to the Last of the Jedi—to Atris.

But she had never expected that she would ever ask the question of herself—to whom does her duty truly lie? The Jedi or Atris herself? They had always been one in the same for her. Indeed, she had vowed to protect the Last of the Jedi from the evil, the corruption of the dark side. She had vowed to protect the Jedi from themselves, from the trends set by the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil Wars.

The Handmaiden made her way to the room that had become her sanctuary. Perhaps it was the will of the Force, she mused, that she would be drawn to Jedi—true Jedi, as uncorrupted as her mistress was twisted. Now. She entered the small cell pondering her convoluted reasoning for her actions and trying to pre-choose her words to the prisoner. She had temporarily disabled the surveillance mechanisms for the cell, but was still wary. She could not give Atris any reason to suspect that she was anything but loyal to _her_. Not if she wished to fulfill her duty to those she had vowed to protect.

"Jedi," she said. He was lying on a sleeping platform protruding from one of the walls, his eyes closed. It was likely the first real sleep he'd had since she'd ordered him moved from the force cage containment room yesterday. He opened his eyes, yawning and unsurprised to see her.

He nodded to her and sat up, his eyes questioning. Brianna remained standing near the door, her arms crossed. She took a deep breath. "Your companion stands against Atris, still. He is formidable, but she is more powerful. She has broken down his defenses and he will succumb—" she paused. "Unless he is no longer available to her."

The Jedi raised an eyebrow, then frowned, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He glanced suspiciously around the room. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked carefully. Brianna swallowed.

"I have disabled security in this room. You may speak freely," she admonished. The Jedi snorted.

"Not likely," he replied reflexively, but then his face softened and he looked at her again, reading her.

"You must believe me… I want to help you. I _must_ help you, Master Jedi."

He nodded. "I believe you," he answered hesitantly, apparently finding a modicum of honesty when her looked into her heart. "But I am no Master Jedi."

"You are more a Jedi than Atris, and as a Jedi, it is you and your companions that I am sworn to protect. Atris has committed to hunting down the Exile, to finding Revan and her knowledge of the Sith. I cannot allow that happen."

"Hunting the Exile…" The Jedi said, his eyes widening. "That's why she's probing Atton's memories. She thinks he can lead her to Tien," he mused, looking to her for confirmation. She nodded grimly.

"She has spoken of their connection—a bond? I can only assume that she believes he knows where the Exile travels and that is why she interrogates him…"

"Why would you help us?" he asked, not letting her quite finish her thought. The Echani had known the question was coming, but had decided that he would not understand.

"My duty is to the Jedi," she said simply, recalling his own words to her before. _Just because Atris can use the Force, does not mean she is a Jedi_.

He nodded. "What is your plan?"

* * *

Lunatic Pandora: For the sake of my own warped universe, I'm gonna go ahead and issue an executive order—I think they're both Darth Traya, Kreia holding the title, then Atris. Kreia went to Atris on Telos to help her along the dark path, noting the betrayals and associated pains in both their pasts. I think the whole Traya theme fits for both of them. And yes, I know Kreia's "Darth Traya" at the end… I just don't think that Atris had quite _arrived_ in Sith-land prior to Kreia's death anyway. But she got there. Eventually. And is getting nice and evil. :) Anyway, I'm trying to work my hypothesis into the story. I hope I can flesh it out a little better than I think the game did. Thanks for making me think so hard about this! I can't tell you how many scenes the internal debate had started producing. :) And thanks for reading.

Micro: Hyper is good. Hyper is great, even. Stay hyper as much as possible. :) I'm glad you're enjoying the story, especially the Atris stuff. She's a pretty challenging character for me, and it helps to know I might be getting it right. Thanks.

Snackfiend: Thanks! And you're keeping an eye on Atris for me… gracias! You're living up to your title. :) And I envy you your rain.

Alice: Is it pathetic that I got the Mission/_Hawk_ 'interaction' from me and my car? I love my car. I talk to my car. I pet the steering wheel and lovingly put the sun shade in the windshield every time I leave her out in the sun so she doesn't get too hot. :) I'm glad you got something out of it. And you flatter me far more than I deserve, methinks. I bow humbly to your kind words. Thank you.

Kristen: Oooh. Creepy. I like that. I dunno, I've been diggin' creepy lately and I'm really happy it's coming through. Thanks for reading, hon, and for your review on kotorfanmedia. Received and adored. :)

Darkgirl: My dear, long or short, your reviews are treasured. Atris is a damned cool villain, ain't she:wink: And you bet I saw Ep. 3. Saw it twice the week it came out. Was, of course, in line for the midnight show at Desert Ridge with my purple Mace Windu lightsaber… Ah. And I'm having a lot of fun with Atton. There are so many directions to go in with him, it's hard to pick one and stick with it.

Apathetic Soul and Riyana: Thanks! I'm so glad you've picked up the story. Thanks for letting me know you're enjoying it. Stay tuned. :)

A little housekeeping business: For any interested parties who haven't checked my profile lately, I've posted the URL for my new livejournal account. I like to post cookies. I get to not sleeping at night and typing randomness and posting it randomly to lj and stuff… so, blah blah blah. Self-pimping. :)

Thanks again, everyone. Gonna start getting to work on the next chapter. Might be a couple of weeks… school is going great, but it's kinda time-consuming… Eh… I bring this stuff upon myself… Peace out.


	13. Chapter 13

_Not mine, don't sue. :) Thanks.

* * *

_

Visas marveled at the feel of Yavin IV, the Force was strong here, penetrating her and making the moon a part of her. It was not necessarily a welcome feeling, though. There was great power in this place, but great darkness as well. It was all too tempting for her, too familiar, and she was already growing weary of resisting its pull.

"You okay?" Tien asked her quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as the two women followed the Twi'lek down the _Ebon Hawk's _ramp and into the heavy humidity of the moon's jungle floor.

Visas nodded slightly, uncertainly, but soon felt Tien wiggling her way into her consciousness. _You're doing fine, Visas. It's only a place—it can't do anything you don't allow._ Tien turned to her and smiled and Visas saw the shadow of her aura change from the dark pink of hesitation to a brighter yellow that she couldn't help but be cheered by. _It can't do anything I don't allow…_

Mission Vao appeared as a bright blue-green silhouette, checking her bearings and trying to determine where the small group should head from their landing position—the only clearing large enough for the _Hawk _for kilometers. There was something here that the young Twi'lek was trying to find, but she seemed ill prepared for a search. Visas reached out with the Force in an attempt to feel anything out of the ordinary that might warrant their interest, but realized that she had no idea what was and was not 'ordinary' for this world.

It was full of life, with _color_ everywhere and in everything. The jungle was steeped in a rich amalgamation of feelings and colors and sounds like no place she had been. As she _explored _the moon, the quiet, persistent lure of the dark side presence here began to fade and she found herself relishing the _life_ instead of the death. It was incredibly… liberating.

"This way," Mission said, pointing to the east.

"To what?" Tien asked, but before Mission had a chance to answer, someone else did it for her.

"Don't kids these days know how to leave an old hermit alone?"

Tien's aura deepened into a dark orange. She was suddenly on guard, but had not drawn her sword from her back. Ripples of violet skittered around the Jedi, threads of familiarity jetting through the uncertainty she was feeling. Whoever the voice was, Tien seemed to know its owner.

"To him," Mission said lightly.

When he showed himself, he was bright green. If she hadn't been able to tell from the age in his voice, Visas might think from his energy that he was a young man not much older than herself. He was so… alive.

For his part, Jolee Bindo had become very good at hiding confusion. It wouldn't do for the old sage to show signs of being a little slow on the uptake. Someone might confuse it with senility or something and the next thing an old man knows, he's in a hospital on some boring as hell idyllic world for his 'own protection.'

"Jolee," Tien said. The old man huffed and rolled his eyes as he stepped into the clearing. He stopped in front of Mission, but turned to inspect the Exile where she was standing about a meter behind her.

"You… you know each other?" Mission said. Visas watched her aura turn bright pink with consternation. The Miraluka remained silent, having nothing really to add. All there was for her to do, really, was watch.

"It's been a while, kid."

Tien closed her eyes tight, then opened them again as though she was trying to wake from a dream. Then, to Visas' enduring surprise, Jedi Parren began to laugh.

"Ah… yes. Yes it has been. I mean, I… I thought you… died… twenty years ago…" she said quietly.

"Nah," he shrugged. "Just dropped off the star charts for a bit. Fairly common practice, these days, hmm?" he answered, quirking his eyebrows defying _her_, of all people, to fault him for it.

"Seems to be," Tien replied carefully, gathering that he knew a bit more about her than she knew about him after so many years.

"You know… I don't know why I even bother…" Mission mumbled, shaking her head. Her aura changed from blue-green to a deep orange.

"Bah, cut the dramatics, kid," the old Jedi said, rolling his eyes. "You did exactly what you were supposed to do."

Mission snorted. "Yeah… _supposed_ to do. I am so sick of hearing about what I'm _supposed_ to do…"

"I… I'm sorry, am I missing something?" Tien asked, radiating a gray confusion. Visas imagined her own aura the same hue.

"We're _all_ missing _something_… let's just hope we're not all missing the _same_ thing. _Then_ we're in trouble," he chuckled.

Visas smiled. She liked this Jolee Bindo.

"What are you talking about, Jolee?" Tien asked. The old man shook his head and waved his hand at her, dismissing the question.

"Come on, ladies. I've got a luxurious new hovel all set up. I need a strong cup of caffa… and our young Exile here looks like she'll run me through with her terrifying _vibrosword_ if we don't sit down and compare notes."

Visas caught up with Mission as Tien matched step with the old man ahead of them. Mission shook her head, radiating her frustration.

"Is that who we are here to see?" she asked the Twi'lek. Mission huffed.

"Yup," she replied, pushing a small branch out of her way as their lightly worn path ventured deeper into the jungle.

"Then why are you upset?"

"Upset? I'm not upset… just… a little sick of being dragged around by my Force-chain. I'm not even a Jedi, but they keep following me around anyway…" Mission sighed. "I just… there used to be a time, not so long ago, that I actually believed in things like coincidence. Now, I'm starting to think that all I'm good for is catering to the universe's mystical chores…"

"The will of the Force is not always clear…" Visas said.

"And _that's_ what I have a problem with," Mission replied, stating the obvious.

"But it seems that this was your plan… that you were waiting for us, to bring us here…"

"Waiting for _something_, yes. Jolee and Bastila thought something was going to happen, and they figured that since I _wasn't_ a Jedi, I'd be safe… if anything happened to them and the others, I could see this great cosmic destiny—or whatever—through. When Revan left, she gave Juhani orders from what was left of the Council; Bastila went into hiding, Jolee, too; and just about every other _smart_ Jedi in the galaxy. Juhani said it was temporary and gave me a datapad Revan had given her… with some coordinates on it. Jolee on Yavin, Bastila and Dustil on Telos, Juhani with me on Taris… some others I didn't know.

"And now we get here, and it turns out I've _really_ been… out of the loop the whole time. Jolee talks like he knew this was going to happen all along… and they know each other? I mean come on! What are the odds?"

Visas nodded and let Mission rant. The gray confusion was fading, slowly being replaced by a more peaceful white as she reached her conclusion.

"I just… I feel _used_. Do you ever feel like that? I mean, it must be a million times worse for a Jedi… Revan hated it. She tried not to let it show, but she hated it. Which is probably why she left in the first place. Just like before, with the war… Wait, you don't think she turned back to the dark side again, do you?"

"I… I do not know…" Visas answered haltingly. She barely knew anything about the former Dark Lord—

"Mission," Jolee turned suddenly to face the younger women following him. "What do _you_ think?"

Mission's jaw dropped as she obviously struggled to answer. "I… no," she stuttered, failing to elaborate. Jolee grunted his approval.

"Damn right. Now quit your bellyaching." He shook his head and continued walking. "With all the whining coming from the rear, anybody'd think you're still a spoiled little kid…"

Mission brisled beside Visas, glowing a bright orange. "I am _not_ a kid!"

* * *

The Last Handmaiden held her breath as she followed her mistress into the Jedi's holding cell. Mical's cell. It was the first time Atris had been troubled to "interview" _him_, and Brianna found herself anxious.

She swallowed the uneasiness down, hopefully before her mistress glimpsed the emotion in her heart. She wondered fleetingly at what point she'd begun to train herself to stop… feeling… altogether.

Mical stood when they entered, catching Brianna's eye. She shook her head minutely from a step behind Atris. His frown deepened slightly and the man stiffened as Atris approached, but Brianna dutifully took her post beside the reactivated force field wall of the cell. She had a bad feeling about this, but could do nothing. They were so close, now… her quiet efforts to pave the way for their escape had been carefully planned, and no matter what happened here, she could not act in any way that might jeopardize that plan. She hoped Mical understood that…

"Your friend has been quite forthcoming, Jedi," Atris probed. He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

"I find that difficult to believe," he answered. Atris smiled.

"Difficult to believe? Why? Because your murderer friend is such the upstanding, virtuous Jedi Knight?"

Mical remained silent.

"To be perfectly frank, he has a rather surprising… familiarity with the Sith, you know. An… affinity, if you will. Amazing, is it not, how sentients grasp at what they know, cling to the past… hunger to feel skilled. And he was _skilled_, Jedi. It is _difficult_, don't you agree? To turn away from your talents? Deny your gifts?"

Mical winced, glancing at Brianna briefly before forcing himself to again meet Atris' eye. The Handmaiden swallowed hard.

"What, exactly, is your point?" Mical asked Atris.

"It is only a matter of time," she replied, her voice too sweet. "He will either tell me what I want to know and join me—reclaim his destiny as a true Sith—or… he will tell me what I want to know and die for his lack of vision. In either case, I will have what I need."

Brianna watched her mistress as she circled the Jedi, examined her, hoping to find any traces of the Jedi Master who once so firlmly held her loyalty and respect. Instead of the shining paragon of light she had admired and sworn her service to, she saw a new being had taken her place.

Traya's skin was a pallid, deathly gray with dark veins beginning to web her face and there was the odd black strand shooting through her white hair. She looked paler than her white robes, yet… so much darker. Brianna shivered.

"And what's that? What is it that you so badly need?" the prisoner asked. Atris laughed.

"You are in no position to interrogate _me_, my little Jedi."

"The question stands," Mical answered. Atris' eyes narrowed and her lip twitched.

"Good…" she said, dragging the word out. "Though I am quite certain you already know the answer. Your Exile… she will lead me to where I need to go, and the murderer will lead me to her. It is only a matter of time." she repeated, trailing off thoughtfully.

"You are curious… and your own talents begin to take shape…" Atris mused. Brianna bit her lip. "We are not so different, you and I. You are an historian—a scholar," she said. Mical's face grew dark and his eyes widened. Brianna could imagine what he was thinking. This was the first time they had spoken… how did she know?

"All that your murderer friend knows is known to me," Atris answered his unasked question matter-of-factly. "I have seen you in the bowels of the Jedi Enclave, immersed in your tomes. I have seen you meditate with the Exile. Seen you agonize over the recordings of her trial… As clearly as I have seen the dark places of his mind, I have seen the mundane—which also has its own, small value."

The Jedi winced when her mistress mentioned the "dark places" and Atris did not miss the weakness. Mical's eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent scream, and Brianna knew Atris was _reaching_ into him as she'd grown so fond of doing to Rand—stealing his memories. Brianna clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"So naïve, my little Jedi… thinking that _I_ had fed him those scenes of death? That _I_ had made him _believe_ he was murdering Jedi?" Atris chuckled heartily and Mical grasped at his head, dropping to his knees.

Atris stopped laughing abruptly and clenched her teeth, rushing the few steps toward him and curling her fingers around his neck. He clawed at her arm as she squeezed.

"_I_ am a _Jedi_!" she exclaimed. "What would _I_ know of such treachery? I am the _Last_ of the _Jedi_! The scattered glimpses your pathetic, untrained mind might have seen of his exploits were his and his alone. But you did not know, did you, my little Jedi, just _how_ close to the darkness your friend the murderer really is."

The Handmaiden forced herself to remain still as the Jedi struggled against her mistress. He was easily twice her size, but with every jerk of his body as he tried to break free, she only seemed to tighten her grip. She could not be moved.

"Your _master_ did not tell you, did she? And neither did your trusted murderer friend?" Atris stood, bringing Mical's flagging body with her, slamming him against the nearest bulkhead. His feet dangled a few centimeters from the floor. "They deceived you…" she chided. Mical's eyes screwed shut as she _reached_ into his mind again. Atris grinned broadly.

"And… she chose the murderer over you?" she asked him softly. Mical's eyes snapped open and he dropped his hands from her arm, positioning them in front of him—between them. His teeth ground together and he _pushed_, sending Atris flying back toward Brianna with an invisible force. Mical slid down the wall, dropping breathlessly to the floor.

Atris stood, her manner unwaveringly dignified. She smiled at the panting heap against the wall and he glared back.

"Excellent," she said, clearly pleased. "Your anger serves you well. The scholar has a warrior spirit."

Atris turned and looked at Brianna. "See to his injuries… He has not yet outlived his usefulness to me," her mistress ordered as she lowered the cell's force field. Brianna nodded onces as Atris left them alone, then knelt down beside Mical, helping him to stand.

"She is insane," the Jedi coughed. The Handmaiden nodded.

"So I have noticed," she answered quietly, realizing that the security monitors were currently active in the cell. The Jedi sat down and looked at her meaningfully. She shook her head.

"Do not worry… we will be exiting hyperspace soon…"

"Have you seen him?" Mical interrupted.

"He resists her still," Brianna assured him, but he did not appear very comforted.

"She is trying to turn him, and if… if she succeeds… and if Atton does indeed share a bond with Tien, then she is correct. It is only a matter of time. If she turns him, he will stop shutting her out to hide her, and it will only be a matter of time before he finds her…" he said.

"We will not allow that to happen," Brianna said, examining his neck for swelling or bruises. He swatted her hand away.

"Is it true? What she said about Atton?" he wondered aloud. "I… I suppose I knew, but… it makes it more real, somehow, to hear it… How many… how many never returned to the enclave because he crossed their paths…"

"People change, Jedi. Atris should be proof enough of that. The change may not always be from light to dark… He will protect the Exile with his life." Mical closed his eyes and Brianna could almost feel his mind working—and internal dialogue running, trying to discern truth from lie, knowledge from instinct.

"I know," he sighed, finally. "But at the moment, it is not her life I am concerned about."

Brianna nodded grimly and stood, her mind running through her plans for escaping the _Firestorm_ with the Jedi, trying to find a way to expedite them, but coming up short.

"Be patient. There is not much longer to wait," she told him as she turned to leave the cell.

* * *

Yuthura Ban was not a patient woman. She certainly tried, but she would be the first to admit that her time at the Sith Academy on Korriban greatly outweighed her short stint with the Jedi, which, since leaving the Academy, had consisted of little more than a brief meeting with Vrook on Dantooine. She had arrived at the enclave only to find it a smoldering pile of rubble, the echoes of the dying screams of the Jedi like a salve for her Sith soul.

"_Lyn Tyril sent me here. She has defeated Master Uthar of the Sith Academy and I, his second, yield to the power of the light," she said, standing proudly before the haggard Jedi Master in the deep recesses of a cave near the ruined enclave. She ignored the four or five other Jedi who had sought refuge there—none of them were worthy of her allegiance. Their leader demanded her attention, with his demeanor and through the Force. _

"_Do you indeed yield?" Vrook asked her skeptically, rising from his seat on an errant rock. His hand twitched toward his lightsaber and Ban's instincts took over. Many arrogant students at the Academy had attempted violent usurpations of her position, and she was always ready for an attack. _

"_Why do you ready yourself for battle? If you have truly surrendered to the light, you would not be trying to fight it even now," the Master said, derision in his voice. She had to respect his authority—Jedi or Sith, it had been earned. _

"_I apologize, Master. It is… habit," she replied, sobering. Had not Jedi Tyril spared her life in the tomb? Fear made her weak, and she suddenly saw with crystal clarity how much fear had been driving her as a Sith. The constant defense, the pre-emption of plots against her—the mercilessness by which the Academy operated was drenched with terror. _

_It had never been anger or passion that gave the Sith their power, it was the manipulation by the Master of his followers; the mistrust, the paranoia, the fear of each other that drove the Sith. And, Yuthura, seething at the realization, saw that only the Master had the true power, leaving devotees like her as little more than wide-eyed worshippers and blaster fodder. Yuthura Ban raged—at the Sith, at her own arrogance and stupidity… at the Jedi standing before her. But she did not draw her weapon, and neither did he. _

_Vrook shook his head sadly, knowingly, and Yuthura wondered if the Jedi Master had not played some part in her abrupt recognition of the nature of the Sith. "Such anger and passion… why are you here, Sith?" Yuthura smiled through her rage and grief, masking her emotions from the Jedi. _

"_I had the honor of an audience with Revan, once," the Twi'lek said. "She remained cloaked and hooded, but gave a demonstration to the most gifted pupils at the Academy. Her skill with the blade was unrivaled and I remember watching her dance with Master Uthar. It was… inspiring." She paused, replaying the scene again in her mind, hoping her instincts were correct, that she was not about to embarrass herself before the Jedi. "I was equally riveted when I saw them dance again."_

_Vrook raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" he answered. Yuthura's eyes did not leave his. "And when might this have been?" he asked. Yuthura exhaled minutely, a practiced sigh of relief. She had expected him to say something along the lines of "Silly girl, Revan is dead…"_

"_Nearly two standard weeks ago," she replied. "The Jedi _was _Revan," she probed. Vrook made no acknowledgement of the question. "The dark taint was still there, I saw it when she arrived on Korriban. But she hides it, cages it… and her rejection of fear, of anger and hatred and passion have indeed strengthened her. I am not so obtuse or arrogant as Master Uthar where her power is concerned. She has surpassed her former self, or will soon." She studied Master Vrook carefully, still unable to decode any indication of her accuracy. She took that as a good sign. _

"_I do not know what happened to her to cause the change… but if Lord Darth Revan may be redeemed, might I as well?"_

"_You have taken a great risk, Yuthura Ban of the Sith, in coming here," Vrook said darkly. Yuthura stood her ground. _

"_I am not afraid. Not anymore. I never wish to fear again."_

_Vrook nodded, then looked around at the paltry remains of his Order. Yuthura's heart, thawing ever so gradually, went out to him. _

"_Go home, my apprentice," he said finally, his arms wide with defeat. "There is nothing I can teach you now."_

"_Home, Master?" she queried. He nodded. _

"_Now is not the time… raw souls will be tempted in the times to come, and a fall back to the dark side is a greater risk than training you incompletely would benefit. Remain vigilant, Yuthura, but hidden. Your time may yet come." _

"There. The Zabrak and the human female," said her companion softly, stepping up behind her and gesturing in the direction of the decaying landing pads that serviced the Port City of Sleheyron. Yuthura nodded. The pair was trying to blend into the crowd and were, perhaps to others, managing at their task. To Yuthura, they were painfully obvious, especially with the vaguely familiar assassin droid following them going out of its way to be intimidating.

"They must have waited to leave Nar Shaddaa, or you would not have beaten them here," Ban replied.

"Well, I couldn't exactly leave until Vogga gave the order to have them followed," he shrugged. "As it was, it took a little convincing for him to send me. He doesn't usually trust new employees with this sort of thing so quickly."

Yuthura pushed her hood away from her face and looked at him, unsurprised by now, by his dastardly appearance. Even as a student at the Academy, he had carried himself with a kind of defiant dignity. Now, he tried to hide it, tried to blend in with the rest of the lowlifes of the Port City and Nar Shaddaa—it _had_ surprised her how easily he had adopted the role. When he had first contacted her a week ago, she had barely recognized him.

"Did you at least determine their destination?"

"Of course. Vogga wants them to destroy one of Goto's old foundries."

"Why?" Yuthura asked. He smirked.

"Who knows why Hutts do what they do?" He winked at her… something no apprentice would have had the nerve to do on Korriban… and started walking, leaving Yuthura to catch up as he followed his quarry from a distance. "Where does that street lead?" he asked her, motioning ahead of them with his chin. The Twi'lek thought for a moment.

"The light industrial district," she answered, finally feeling useful for the first time since her former student had contacted her.

"Who's in charge there? What are they going to be up against?"

"It's a… an Aqualish, I believe… one of Omeesh the Hutt's lieutenants who took over after I—after Omeesh was killed. I do not think they will face much opposition from him, though… from what I understand, Sloora has only kept Omeesh's operations here as a sort of side project. He has concentrated most of his efforts on Nar Shaddaa." She bit her lip. "Is this not the kind of information Coruscant would have supplied you with?"

He conspicuously ignored her question and moved on to another of his own. "Do you know who—"

"Ultimatum: Don't move, meatbags. Observation: Your poor attempt at mobile reconnaissance will no longer be necessary."

* * *

_A/n's: I was not about to allow a whole entire month to go by without updating, but this was a really tough one. Seriously, if I worked this hard on my school stuff… I mean, my ass is numb, for crying out loud!_

_And, I would like to state for the record, that this thing has reached the way-too-long mark. You know you're there when Word pops up a dialogue saying that there are now too many spelling and grammar mistakes in the document to continue auto-tracking them. Phew… boy, do I feel accomplished! _

_Extra thank you's to Foxfire for the quick beta work and Alice the Raven for the encouragement. Any mistakes are my own. _

Snackfiend: I'm so glad you're enjoying Atris. I just get so into my evil!zone when I write her… it's easy, 'cuz she's crazy. :) And I'm having loads of fun with the Handmaiden and Di, too. I was always so jealous of the guys for getting her… she kicks ass. And who knows? Maybe Mical will get a nice happy ending… Bao-Dur is not force-sensitive… yet. He just needs to be put in the right situations for him to figure it out. evil grin

Foxfire: Ah, there is nothing better than Atton being tortured, methinks. And I couldn't do it without you. Thanks.

ApatheticSoul: Tension makes the world go 'round, my dear. Thank you for reading and for the encouragement!

Lunatic Pandora: Catches Force Lightning, Yoda-style Atton'll do better than throw lighting, I think. He deserves more along the lines of revenge, there, don't ya think? Mwahahaha…

MicroChips: Thank you so much for your kind words. :) And school has been going pretty good, and is therefore not so much of a drag—for now. Keep your fingers crossed for me as Summer Session 2 progresses….

Alice the Raven: I'm so happy you liked the dueling scene! You helped me out so much with that. And I'm so flattered by your comments on balance… I think that's really the hardest part and sometimes I'm not so sure I pull it off. Thank you.

Maxie: And may the Force be with you, as well. I apologize for taking so long between posts this time.

Darkgirl: Thanks, lady! I know the Mira/Bao stuff isn't the most interesting in the story… sometimes I have to force myself to sit down and start thinking about it… but it makes it worth it to know someone's diggin' it. And, Atris? Man, she's just a trip… what's not to love about all that evilly goodness? Hehehehe.

Kristen: Ah… so happy to hear you're warming up to Mira/Bao. Not quite sure if I could call it ship, just yet… but there's at least a little UST, and I'm proud to say, I don't think that pairing has quite been done before. It's uncharted territory, and I'm happy you guys are enjoying it. And as for Atton's character development, you've got to admit… it probably would have added about 20 hours to the game. Not that I'd have minded… :)

Kathleen: Thank you for your very thorough and thoughtful review! I want you to know that I definitely see your points—every one of them. It is, however, pretty hard to change styles in a monster like this halfway through, so some advice I take, and some I'll keep in mind for the next one. :)

Author's notes: Sooo belong at the end. Looking back at past chapters, I'm noticing that I did a lot of exposition in the opening a/n's that should really have been gathered from reading the story itself. You don't sit down to watch a movie after hearing the director introduce it by mentioning his struggles and motivations. So thank you for bringing that to my attention.

Characters: I guess I'm trying to stay as true to Obsidian's characters as I can. I suppose when I write fanfic, I expect that the readers already have a fairly good knowledge of characterization when they sit down to read… as evidenced by rampant feedback in some fic circles about how non-canon authors' characters are in their stories, and so on. I try to stick to canon while growing the characters from where they left off. There's also a lot of growing still to go… it's turning into a really long journey, and I'm still getting to know them myself. I'm working on it.

Chapters: As for sticking to one character set for a whole chapter, that's one of those style things that's kind of hard to change halfway through. I could just make the chapters much shorter, but I'd rather not. I realize I've sacrificed a bit in the character development area for plot advancement, pacing, and timeline. It's been kind of a toss-up for me, really. As hard as it is to keep track of the characters, it's a bit harder to keep the time frame and pacing straight with all the different groups going, and I find that timeline maintenance is a little easier with smaller segments and more jumping around. Might not really make sense, I know, but it seems to work for me in this particular case. I hope it's not too confusing for others. If it's really difficult to read through, I will consider making some adjustments, but right now, I'd like to keep it a little more fast-paced, and I think the current segmenting feels right for that.

Thank you again for your comments, I really do appreciate your input and I'm truly flattered that you're enjoying the story. Thank you for reading and for taking such care in reviewing.

PadawanMage: Wow… 'deep'… Thanks! And I'll just let you stew about Mira/Bao and Atris and her holocrons… I don't want to give anything away. But just keep in mind that Atris is crazy. Insane. Nuts. A few rounds short of a full magazine. And the damned holocrons certainly don't _help_… wink

Thank you again, guys. So much.

Peace.


	14. Chapter 14

_No cash. Not mine. Don't sue.  
_

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* * *

_

"Captain, we've followed up on the Echani's report on Telos as ordered." The Lieutenant was young, but thorough. Captain Dern Den-Kel turned from his post at the forward bridge station of the _Firestorm_ to listen to what the young man had to say. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"And?" he prodded. The Lieutenant's eyebrow twitched and he swallowed hard.

"Our scouts have reported back that Admiral Onasi has ordered a permanent fleet presence in orbit around Telos for the time being. Since the _Ravager's_ ambush, Citadel Station's operations have been floundering, sir, and its continued operation may be in question. Apparently, they are running low on fuel…"

Den-Kel smirked, his face wrinkling slightly at the edges of his mouth. He could see that the news pleased his third officer as well. Telos' distress was, of course, welcome, but the subsequent attention it drew from the Republic threw a kink into their guest's plans. He would have to find a way around Onasi's security measures before she could gain access to the planet.

"Well," the Captain said confidently, "It would not have been wise to bring the _Firestorm_ too close to the planet even without the increased Republic presence. It would seem that we really _are_ nothing more than a glorified transport service."

"Sir?"

The older man smiled knowingly.

"The _Firestorm_ will simply not enter Telosian space," he said lightly. If he knew Onasi—Saul Karath's former protégé, the man who, despite having betrayed his mentor was still the standard by which every Sith Officer under Karath's command was measured—the Admiral would not be willing to sacrifice the planet's efforts to rebuild for the security of the sector. If anything, he would be encouraging faster progress if the Citadel was, in fact, running out of fuel… easy enough to believe since the destruction of Peragus.

And, the maneuver he had in mind for this operation would present a singular opportunity to assess his judgment of character.

"Master Atris—or Darth Traya—or whatever she is calling herself today—will be on her own for her journey to the surface," Den-Kel clarified.

Dern had a knack for divining the path of progress early. He'd immediately sided with Revan when the Mandalorians were defeated, following her strategic prowess from the lower echelons of the Republic Army to command within the Sith Fleet. He had predicted Malak's betrayal and hedged his bets well in advance, maintaining alliances on both sides of the dark lords' little civil dispute and had come out on top.

And upon Malak's defeat at the Star Forge, a contingency for which he had admittedly failed to plan, he found himself and his crew without solid leadership from the Sith Command Corps. Apparently, Malak had let the Fleet become far too centralized and dependent upon his orders—a fact which the Captain had painstakingly concealed from his crew in the years since Malak's destruction.

Without direction, the Sith would fall. It was that simple. Without direction, his crew would crumble at his feet and that was not something Dern Den-Kel was willing to allow. So he bided his time, knowing that the way of the Sith would prevail… another, more powerful leader would emerge. It was just a matter of time—and a matter of waiting for the right opportunity; seeing it when it presented itself.

Which was why he had not simply laughed and closed the comm channel when he received her blanket communiqué entreating Sith aid on Telos. Apparently, he had been the only captain not to laugh and close the channel, because the _Firestorm_ had been the only ship to respond. Which was just fine by Captain Den-Kel.

His would be a privileged position when Darth Traya assumed the mantle of power once held by the great Darth Revan.

* * *

Mira cocked her Mandalorian heavy blasters, taking up a position behind Bao-Dur as they approached HK and his detainees. She'd had the slightest sense of being followed, but had written the itch off as background noise from being back on a crowded planet. She resisted the urge to shake her head at her own stupidity. Upstaged by a homicidal droid…

"Can we help you?" Bao-Dur asked, his hand resting just above the handle of the Sith tremor sword still sheathed at his belt. Mira was not so willing to appear harmless, glaring daggers first at the human and then and the purple Twi'lek beside him. There was something… off… about both of them. Something she should know, but couldn't quite put her finger on. It was irritating, but Mira bit it back, trying to focus.

She was a Jedi. She should be able to focus…

"Ah… no," the human answered, trying to come off as nonchalant and actually doing a fairly remarkable job. He knew what he was doing. The Twi'lek, on the other hand, seemed to exude arrogance and aggravation at having been stopped—caught? She wisely remained silent, letting her human companion do the talking. Mira had to respect the effort, even if she could see right through it.

"Then again, there is something you could help me with…" the young man continued. Mira raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Bao-Dur remained impassive.

"What's that?" he asked, fingering the hilt of his sword. The human glanced at the Zabrak's hand, smirked, then looked back up to his calm face.

"My friend and I were just walking around, minding our own business, when we were attacked by a maniac droid. Might he be yours?" the man asked, haughtily. The Twi'lek woman crossed her arms and glanced at Mira with a look of 'talk your way out of that one.' Mira smiled brightly at her and twitched her blasters just enough for her to notice the movement. The purple Twi'lek rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the men.

"HK may be a maniac, but he knows better than to attack innocent people." Bao-Dur stepped a little closer to the human. "Which leads me to believe that you're not as innocent as you're trying to sound. Why were you following us?" Bao-Dur asked.

Then something in Mira's mind clicked and she gasped. "You work for Vogga!" she said, a flash of recognition from the Hutt's audience chamber and later at the cantina spurring her into action. She shouldered her way past Bao-Dur in the narrow alleyway before he had a chance to stop her. Mira planted the muzzles of her blasters squarely into the human's chest and pushed him back into the wall, really just intending to incapacitate him in case he was going to try anything, but the Twi'lek moved almost as fast, pirouetting away from her now-pinned friend and making a quick grab for Mira's blasters. She stopped short only as Bao-Dur quickly drew his sword and leveled it in her path, holding her back.

Undeterred, the Twi'lek reached her hand out in front of her and Mira's blasters went flying out of the hunter's hands. Mira glanced into the face of the man she _had _held against the wall and she realized what it was that she'd been missing about them.

Disarmed of her two blasters, she instinctively crossed her arms and thrust her hands to her belt to grasp to cold, silver handles. She drew her yellow-bladed short lightsabers in one swift motion as the man against the wall reached into his jacket. Mira brought her right blade down on him and her left she slashed toward his torso. He activated a blue lightsaber of his own, blocking her vertical blow easily then lit another red blade with his left hand, deflecting her lateral cut. They eyed each other through the brightness of their crossed blades.

"Stop—" the Twi'lek commanded.

Mira blinked, but didn't turn, not willing to be distracted. The man—Sith or Jedi?—maintained his defense while starting to push her away. He was getting the upper hand. He was stronger, and if she got distracted, she'd lose…

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said quietly through gritted teeth. Mira hoped his stress was due to her putting up more of a fight than he'd bargained for, but found _herself_ unable to talk at all, trying to keep her concentration by holding her breath.

"Mira—" Bao-Dur said. She _almost_ turned around. She could hear the faint hum of another lightsaber behind her. She wondered if Bao-Dur and the Twi'lek were caught in a similar position to hers.

"We're here to _help_ you. We know why you're here…" her foe intoned. He shifted his left hand down by their waists and Mira overcompensated for the change. He flicked his red saber, deftly spinning her blade out of her hand, but managed to drop his own in the process. Both blades deactivated as they hit the ground and Mira moved her left hand up to join her right grasping her remaining blade.

Where the hell was HK? Why wasn't the damned droid shooting this guy in the head? Where was Bao-Dur and what was the Twi'lek—

Mira felt like she was just punched in the stomach. The Sith-or-Jedi had not dropped his red saber on accident. Once he had disarmed her, he'd dropped it on purpose, bringing his left hand upwards and pushing at her with the Force. She slammed into the wall a couple meters behind her and slid to the ground, vaguely realizing that her remaining lightsaber was no longer in her hand.

She pulled in a deep breath, and her head swam with the sudden influx of oxygen. Just how long _had_ she been holding her breath? She looked around her and tried to reach out with the Force, searching for anything of help.

Mira saw Bao-Dur held at bay, his sword on the ground, by the Twi'lek, wielding the darkest lightsaber she had ever seen. It was a deep violet that seemed to cast almost no light at all. She held it at a distance from her friend, but it was close enough—and the Twi'lek was fast enough—for it to be threatening.

HK-47 was smoldering slightly, just beyond Bao-Dur, the obvious victim of a Force attack against his circuitry. She assumed the Twi'lek was responsible—and she quietly thanked the Force that the droid hadn't been destroyed entirely like the ones she'd watched Tien and Atton blow up on more than one occasion.

The brown-haired young man that she'd first seen at Vogga's stepped over to her and reached down a hand, offering to help her up. Mira bit the inside of her cheek nervously, but finally grasped his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Both of his lighstabers were re-clipped just inside his now-open jacket.

Mira glanced from the man to his still battle-ready companion and back, quirking an eyebrow. The young man nodded, seeming to get the silent message.

"Yuthura… I think we can start talking things over, now…" he said. The Twi'lek—Yuthura—nodded curtly and, with a slight air of disappointment, closed down her lightsaber and stepped away from Bao-Dur.

_You okay?_ Mira thought at him for her own peace of mind, though she really didn't expect an answer.

_I'm fine. How are you?_ came a cheerful, quiet reply. She thought she must have imagined it.

"You said you were here to help us," Mira stated, casually making her way closer to Bao-Dur while raking her eyes over the dusty ground searching for her sabers.

"Well, let's just say our goals are compatible. Five minutes ago, we were just sort of… keeping an eye out… sticking around just to make sure you succeeded. But, thanks to your droid there, it seems we're about to take a more active role," Vogga's henchman said, turning his back on her halfway through his spiel and bending down to pick something up. He turned back toward Mira and handed her her lightsabers. She reclipped them to her belt hidden beneath her outer robe and wondered vaguely where her blasters had ended up.

"Compatible?" Bao-Dur asked. The man nodded.

"We're after the same thing. Simple as that."

"If Vogga was sending you, why did he bother with us?" Mira asked. The man smiled and Yuthura shook her head, sending her companion a scathing look that practically screamed _why are you telling them so much?_

"Ever hear of Republic Intelligence?" the man said in a hushed voice.

"Ever hear of keeping that sort of thing quiet?" Bao-Dur asked. "If you're really a spook, you'd know better than to blow your cover, even to potential allies."

"Did I say I was _with_ Republic Intelligence?" the man shot back.

"Then who _are _you and what do you want?" Mira hissed.

"What, the lightsabers and the neat magic tricks didn't give it away?"

"Which one? The blue or the red? Can't make up your mind?" Mira snapped. The man's face darkened suddenly and Mira instantly felt a wave of fear and regret and anger from him. Until that moment, he'd kept his emotions skillfully hidden from her—she hadn't even been able to tell that he was a Force user until he hit her over the head with it. Now, it was very real to her, that this man was a Jedi. She felt a similar, if quieter wave from Yuthura, who glanced at the man curiously.

"That's none of your business," he said, staring into her eyes, boring into her and willing her to leave it alone. She clenched her teeth, but complied, deciding to save the question for another time. Despite the anger she had suddenly felt from him, she just as suddenly knew that there was no malice behind it; that his intentions were good and that he, at least, _was_ on their side.

She knew _people_. Mira trusted her instincts on this one, as she always did.

"Okay," she said.

"Thank you," he answered. Mira _felt_ the gratitude as he seemed to let down his guard, knowing such an act would earn her trust.

"You seem to know a lot about us…" Bao-Dur said cautiously. The man nodded.

"And _you_ don't know anything about _us_…" he answered. Bao-Dur shrugged an affirmative.

"You're Jedi," Mira stated. Yuthura shook her head.

"In case you haven't noticed, the Jedi are not exactly plentiful anymore. Most of them are dead, and those of us that have managed to stay around do not deign to advertise our whereabouts or status…" she said. "There are no _Jedi_ left in the Galaxy."

"Not in the traditional sense, anyway. And I'll guess that your experiences have led you to believe the same," the man added. "My name's Dustil," he continued, "And I _do_ work for the Republic, but not for Intelligence. I was sent here on a tip _from_ the Intel Network that someone had managed to procure a new fuel source for Telos and, seeing how important the Telos Restoration Project is, my superiors thought it might be a good idea to check it out. And as rumor had it a _Jedi_ was responsible… all the more reason to investigate." He paused, shrugging. "The best way to find out what was going on was to get an in with the local crime lord. And here I am."

"And her?" Mira asked, nodding toward Yuthura.

"I am… just a guide. An old friend in the right place at the right time," she answered rather cryptically.

"But you're a Jedi too?" Bao-Dur asked. Yuthura shook her head.

"No. I'm not a Jedi," she replied succinctly. Mira felt that the other woman was hiding something, despite telling the truth. She made a mental note to find out what it was before their paths separated.

"Guide?" Bao-Dur wondered aloud. "Do you know where we can find this factory we're supposed to sabotage?"

Yuthura smiled, self-satisfied. "Yes."

_I don't like this_, Mira heard whispered into her mind. She turned to look at Bao-Dur, who was staring at her intently, his eyebrows quirked in silent question. She shook her head, deciding not to look the gift-gizka in the mouth. She hadn't been imagining his thoughts before…

_I don't like it either, but… I trust them,_ she thought back. _Somehow, I do trust them. This is the right thing…_

_I trust _you,he whispered back. The voice was so faint; Mira wondered how she could hear it at all.

"Well…" Mira said, sighing. "Since our goals are compatible…" she conceded. "Lead the way. And for Force's sake, no more whipping out lightsabers… we've been trying to keep a low profile, here…"

She smiled reassuringly at Bao-Dur, who nodded back to her before finally giving the still ailing HK-47 some attention. Yuthura must have really done a number on him as Bao-Dur actually had to find the droid's power core and reset his systems.

"Sorry," Yuthura shrugged, not sounding at all like she meant it. Dustil smirked, but said nothing as the assassin droid came back online.

"Supplication: Please don't tell me you've made _friends_ with these meatbags, Zabrak! Confession: I had been looking forward to disintegrating them prior to my _flagrant_ incapacitation."

"I still have your pacifist module, HK," Bao-Dur deadpanned. HK-47 quaked in what was a fair approximation of a human shudder.

"Mandate: Perish the thought…"

* * *

Atton didn't open his eyes anymore. He didn't move—didn't try. Every time he did, something hurt. Every time he did, he was terrified that she would realize he was awake and come back.

In an odd way, he also hoped she would. He hoped she'd come back, because maybe next time, she'd try the good cop routine on for size and he might at least get some food out of it. Maybe next time, she'd be stupid enough to taunt him with freedom again—let him hold Tien's lightsaber that she'd left so prominently for him to see on the small metal table by the cell's control console. Maybe if she did, he'd be ready next time, and not screw it up. Again.

Next time, he would kill her. He knew it. The next time he had a chance, he would kill her.

The worst part was he knew exactly what she was doing, and why she was doing it. He had done it himself not so long ago. He knew her tactics like he had taught her himself, the most effective ways to break a Jedi. And he wondered what was next. He wondered how much longer it would be before she pulled out the secret weapon upon which he had so frequently relied.

He blocked Tien out. Blocked her so completely—he had no idea how he was doing it, only knew that he _had_ to. It was all that mattered, now. It wouldn't be long before she would come back and break him and break Tien in the process. He'd seen it so many times. Enough times that Atton wasn't arrogant enough to believe that they might be immune.

Get to the master through the padawan. Damned Jedi Force bonds…

He'd almost let it slip. A couple of times, he'd let a few bricks come loose from his wall and he thought he'd felt Tien come through. He'd known it'd started to crumble when he blacked out while fighting Atris. He knew he was only getting weaker, and now he was on the brink of letting it fall altogether. Maybe he'd have time for one quick warning, a couple final words. Tell her to stay away. To write them off. To go do what she was going to do and never look back. Tell her about Atris and what she was doing.

Tell her that she had been right. That she should have killed the wench when she'd had the chance.

"Do you realize," he heard. His breath caught and he viciously choked down a sob. He hadn't heard her come in. She'd known anyway, despite all of his careful efforts to play dead.

He hated her. He hated her so much. He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and he was going to _enjoy_ it.

"How impeccable Sith record-keeping is?" she continued. Atton opened his eyes just enough to see her kneeling down in front of him on the other side of the force field. She was smiling.

He hated her. Hated her so much. Her and her smile. That infuriating smile. And that voice. The way she made it sound so sweet and so full of evil-anger-torment all at once. He _hated_ her.

Atton could see the outline of Tien's lightsaber on its table behind Atris' horrible-beautiful face _smiling_, sneering at him. He _reached _out for it. Nothing to lose in trying now, he imagined, but all it did was tremble a little, clanking against the surface of the table. He couldn't do it. Couldn't use the damn Force to pull such a small object a couple of meters to save his life. To save Tien's life, Mical's life. He couldn't do it. He just kept failing.

"You have quite the respectable repertoire, Jaq. In fact, your reports from the 'good old days' have been incredibly enlightening. I'm afraid to say I haven't been able to resist trying a few of your tricks, in fact," she said. Her smile grew just a little bit wider at the sound of his poor attempt at freedom, but otherwise ignored it. He wasn't a threat. Not anymore. She was winning, and he wasn't even a threat to her. Not anymore.

He should have died. He should have died on Peragus. On Malachor. Nar Shadda. Korriban. Anywhere. He should have died so many times. Should have died protecting her—

_You are protecting me…_ he imagined her saying. _But you can't die. Promise me you won't die…_

No. Instead of dying, he was going to fold. He had seen it so many times. He knew what was next. He knew she was saving the big one for last. The one that always seemed to work, even on the most dedicated Jedi, the most stubborn he'd ever had a hand in turning. The strongest.

Tien's face flashed behind his re-closed eyelids and he wished he knew where she was. Just for a second. He wished he knew where she was, so he could tell her he was sorry.

_A jungle. A field in a jungle, high stone temples like mountains at the edge of the trees. An old man holding her lightsaber out to her, ordering her to take it. _

_She stopped and Atton watched her, like a specter just at the edge of being. In two places at once. Tien looked at him, her eyes widening, and Atton looked back. _

He pushed her away faster than he'd thought possible. No. That wasn't allowed. You're in this on your own, Rand. No dragging her into this.

_You are strong enough, Atton. You are strong. And you know what she's going to do. You can fight it. You're stronger than her— _

No! He pushed Tien out again, violently, hoping she'd get the message. Why now? Why now, after all this time, was she trying so hard to reach him? He waited a moment, waited to see if she would reach another gentle probe out to him. She didn't. He sighed, relieved beyond all reason.

Atton dragged his eyelids open again only to find that Atris had not moved. She was patient. She was waiting for him to be ready to be broken.

"There is one thing in particular that you seemed especially fond of… that I have been anxious to try, Mr. Rand…"

* * *

Don't want to throw off the flow with major a/n's here… the next chapter will be up in the next day or so. I swear. :) I just wanted to put this up now so I could say this: **I'm changing the story category to Video Games: Star Wars instead of Movies starting with the next chapter**. So if you've been following the story under movies, it won't be there anymore. :) 

ttfn.

And thanks for reading.

Y muchas gracias, tan siempre, a Foxfire for the masterful beta-work. :)


	15. Chapter 15

_Not mine. No cash. Don't sue._

_

* * *

_  
"So… this is fun…" Tien shouted over the torrential rain. The big drops plopped all around her on the big, open leaves of the jungle canopy. The sky was dark despite it being the middle of the day. She shivered, sparing a moment of envy for Mission and Visas warm and dry in the cockpit of the _Hawk_. Tien had to admit that Mission was a much better mechanic than she was… with any luck, the Twi'lek would have the ship ready to be underway by the time she and Jolee returned from their little excursion. 

"I'll just pretend you were being serious," Jolee replied without turning. He was about a meter ahead of her navigating the lightly worn path, his green lightsaber drawn and slashing at the foliage blocking their way. He stopped, holding his saber up to cast some more light through the dense trees, then nodded, deciding their next turn. "Would you like me to tell you a story about how much worse things _could_ be?" he asked.

Tien made a face, recalling his last story—something about… something. "No. Please… that really won't be necessary…" she yelled. She thought she heard him laugh.

She was really starting to hate this place. It reminded Tien all too much of Duxn, and that was a place, a part of her life, that she never wanted to think about. Duxn had been cold, though. The rain was cold, the air was cold. It chilled her to the bone every minute she was there, but it fit. Duxn _was_ a cold, chill place that fit its cold history. It was just like she'd remembered it from the war.

Yavin IV was different. It was hot here, but the huge raindrops dripping into her eyes and onto her bare arms were like little pellets of ice. Her sleeveless tunic and linen pants were soaked through and she could feel puddles of water sloshing around in her boots. The hilt of her double sword was slick in her hands, but she knew part of that was sweat. Tien hadn't gotten used to that yet, either… sweating and chattering teeth at the same time.

Irritated, she grunted and hacked, much harder than necessary, at a random vine that Jolee had missed. This time, she was sure she heard the old man laugh at her.

"Don't get your shorts in a twist, kid. We're almost there. They not teaching you youngsters the whole 'there is no chaos, there is serenity' thing anymore?"

"Shut up, old man," she replied with an eye roll. He snorted and trudged on, his mood seeming to get lighter as Tien's grew darker.

This place made her so uneasy. Tien constantly felt like she was being watched, constantly felt like there was something out there waiting for her to drop her guard. She'd told Visas when they landed that the dark taint here would only get to her if she let it in… now Tien wished for the Miraluka to tell her the secret she'd employed to keep the darkness at bay.

When they had first landed, it was manageable, but the deeper into the jungle she went, the more exhausted Tien grew from fending off the oppression. It was like gravity was increasing on her with every step, holding her down so she could barely reach out and touch the Force for fear of touching the taint instead.

She really hated this place.

_I am surprised you have not overcome the darkness by now…_ Visas' voice echoed in her head. Her friend must have felt her uneasiness even from as far away as the _Ebon Hawk_. Was she being that obvious?

She thought she heard Jolee snort again.

Tien took a deep breath and let Visas' sense of calm wash over her before _opening_ her eyes the way the Miraluka had taught her on Onderron.

_It is no secret… how to push the taint away…_ Visas whispered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tien looked up at the now bright and tumultuous sky, her view rimmed by the glow of the great leaves and branches above drinking in the life giving water. She saw Jolee before her, a soft, peaceful bluish-green, and each raindrop seemed to slow, each a different color, soft shades of the living molecules within them.

And the darkness wasn't so dark anymore.

"The Force is a funny thing…" Jolee said. The rain was starting to let up and his voice came through loud and clear as they continued their sticky march through the jungle. "It really is what you make of it. Whether you can use the Force or not, it doesn't change the fact that it's there. Whether you use it for good or for evil doesn't change its nature. Whether you embrace it or ignore it, it really couldn't give a damn either way. It's its own power, its own life, and if you want my opinion, anybody arrogant enough to tap into it should be well prepared for the consequences… because where the Force is concerned… well, best laid plans and such. It's got a mind of its own."

He paused, again stopping at a barely discernable fork in the path. Tien stopped just behind him, thinking about what he was saying and his reasons for saying it. She saw the truth in it… and wholeheartedly agreed. The Jedi, the Sith… arrogant each in their own way. And was she? Arrogant like them?

"Ah… here we are…" Jolee mumbled, turning sharply to the right. The rain had finally died down to a slow drizzle and the sky brightened considerably. She could see a clearing a short distance away.

"The Force does these odd things… like drop an ex-Jedi-smuggler onto a backwater planet. Only the Force could have manipulated events in such a way as to have that smuggler just happen to stumble upon some little kid who thought it might be fun to sneak into the spaceport and onto some random ship. Only the Force could make for just the right timing for the smuggler to catch her in the act and take her home for a whoopin'."

Tien smiled as they cleared the forest and stepped into an almost-sunny stretch of open land. The tall, green grass came up to her waist, but she followed Jolee through it without stopping. There was another stone structure at the far end and their destination finally became fairly clear to her. Assuming he wasn't planning on throwing her any new surprises.

"Taking you to Dantooine went against everything I had come to hold true about the Jedi—and the Force—but I did it anyway. As far as I was concerned, you—anybody—were better off without the Order… but I dropped you in their laps anyway…" Jolee trailed off. Tien frowned. He'd never told her that before… That he hadn't wanted to take her. It had been his idea… he had been the one to convince her aunt to let her go in the first place…

"Why?" she asked, getting a sick feeling in her stomach. She got a sick feeling every time something came up that was just a little more proof that she was no more in control of her own life than a planet was in control of its orbit.

He shrugged. "That's the Force for ya. It doesn't need a reason—or a reason it tells you about, anyway. It just does its thing and lets the rest of us tag along for the ride. That's what destiny is, you know. Just tagging along for the ride. That is one thing the Jedi _do_ get… which might be why I've resented them so much… Never been a big fan of destiny… but that's really neither here nor there, isn't it?"

He stopped at about the center of the clearing and turned to face her, pulling something from inside his sopping wet outer robe. He extended his hand out to her, displaying the object he held. It was her lightsaber.

Tien glared at him, wishing she'd managed to sense his trick before he'd played it. But he'd always been hard for her to read, and now the old man was using that to his advantage. She balked, stepping away from him. How had he found it anyway? She had hidden it—quite carefully—aboard the _Ebon Hawk… _perhaps because she had been hoping she'd forget where she'd put it herself.

"Oh, grow up," Jolee said. Tien scowled at him and he rolled his eyes, trying to shove the weapon into her hands. She shook her head.

"Ah… so it _wasn't_ by accident that this little beauty found its way into the smuggler's compartment in the cargo hold. Though, I would have been a lot more impressed if it had managed to find it _and _figure out the combination all by itself…"

"How did you—"

"I have my sources," he replied. Tien's thoughts instantly shot to Visas. Her eyes narrowed, but it was more out of irritation than real anger. At some point, the fight had all drained out of her, along with the need to be defensive. She just… was very close to not caring anymore what anybody thought of her. She had started to wish Visas had not snuck her way onto the _Hawk_ before she left Telos.

Especially after…

Her breath actually caught as the millions of ways the explosion on Taris could have been so much worse flashed in her mind.

Tien could take a hint… even if the Force seemed to have to spell it out for her. She had figured it out eventually. She had decided certainty as she'd spoken to Mission in the cockpit just after waking up that, wherever they were going, Tien would be the only one leaving on the _Hawk_… She'd gotten complacent and that had to change.

She sighed, focusing on Jolee who still stood before her, her lightsaber still in his hand. She shook her head at him, slowly… she felt deflated as he held the one thing that was her _own_… the one thing she controlled—had hidden away as her _own_ choice—in his hand. She felt empty, seeing it there. Naked and exposed and empty.

"That's the Force for you…" he said again. "Stripping you bare and leaving you with nothing to call your own. Makes you wonder, doesn't it… if the decisions we make are even ours? With things like destiny out there, it's hard to think that choice is anything more than an illusion."

"Isn't it?" Tien asked.

"You should know better than anyone that it's not," Jolee answered. "You've already made the only choice that really matters. A couple of times, if I'm not mistaken."

Tien looked at her lightsaber in the old man's strong, dark hands. He held it with a sense of reverence… the same reverence she'd had for it—still had. The reverence that had made her set it aside in the first place. It was the weapon of a Jedi…

She shook her head. "I'm not a Jedi," Tien said. She stared at her weapon, could almost feel it in her hands, hear its hum. She shivered, feeling worthless without it, despite the fact that she knew it was only a thing… it didn't define her. But it was the weapon of a Jedi.

She could pretend. She could carry the lightsaber and masquerade as a Jedi, but the truth was, she never would rightfully carry her weapon again. It was all she had ever wanted and she had thrown it away.

The truth was… she felt worthless without the _Jedi_.

"Neither am I," Jolee answered quietly. Tien slowly, laboriously tore her gaze away from her own weapon to look at the well-worn hilt of Jolee's weapon, clipped to his belt. She looked up at his face when he laid a hand on her shoulder. "I am Jolee Bindo," he said. "I have made a _lot_ of mistakes in my time, but I _choose_ not to blame those mistakes on some trumped up idea of destiny, and I choose to live my life making those mistakes right again. That's how I know that choice isn't an illusion.

"You made the biggest choice there is, when you _chose_ to follow your own moral compass instead of the Council's, you chose to cut yourself off from the Force—and let it back in again. You chose to let destiny rot. It isn't an illusion, Tien. And you don't need any _Order_to tell you that." He paused, looking down at her with an air of compassion that was so contrary to his usual gruffness that Tien couldn't ignore the sincerity of his words. "But then, do you really need and old, bitter fool like me to tell you either?"

He held out her lightsaber to her again. Tien looked at her double sword in her hand, suddenly unable to place it as familiar. It was just a _thing_ again… not her safety net, not her back-up plan, not a surrogate for what should have been there all along.

She dropped it and took her lightsaber into her hands, tightening her fingers around the smooth wood and chrome hilt. She ignited it, warmed by the soft violet glow, and it occurred to her that she had never carried a yellow lightsaber, despite her path as a Sentinel. Even her first had been unique… She snorted a short laugh and looked back up at Jolee.

"I am Tien Parren and I am not a Jedi," she said with a small smile. "I may not be a member of the Order, but I can still choose to do what I know is right…" she whispered. She remembered thinking that once before, but then, its meaning was so far inferior to what she felt now. Before, doing the right thing was _settling_… if she couldn't be a Jedi, she would settle for being a good person. But maybe she'd had it backwards.

"Because that's all anybody really can do…" Jolee nodded.

"And that whole destiny thing?" Tien asked, grinning for the first time in as long as she could remember.

"Bah… good for a laugh, on occasion… it does have a sense of humor, after all…"

Tien closed her eyes, letting the Force flow into her. She breathed deeply, feeling the life around her… feeling whole and new. Like a bandage had finally stuck to the gaping wound she'd carried since Malachor. It was still there… but soothed. She'd forgotten what this kind of contentment had felt like.

She broke her silence with the Force and reached out to test the water, stretching tendrils of herself out as far as she could. She touched Jolee, felt his self-satisfaction. It tickled her, his odd brand of pride. She felt Visas and Mission… felt Visas tap into Tien's own sudden burst of peace. She stretched out beyond the life of the moon and—

And something stretched back.

Her eyes snapped open as a tenuous bond tightened and solidified.

_He should have died. He should have died on Peragus. On Malachor. Nar Shadda. Korriban. Anywhere. He should have died so many times. Should have died protecting her—_

Oh sweet Force.

For a moment, she was there, the clearing in the jungle forgotten. She was standing in a small, dim room unable to move as Atris crouched down beside Atton. She could feel his fear and taste his hatred, it was so strong. She watched Atris smile and coo at him and Tien felt Atton's hopelessness. It was so wrong. So not _him_… she barely recognized him.

_He should have died… he should have died…_

Tien tried to move, tried to go to him, but could not. She choked on her frustration, expecting a pained gurgle, but she made no sound. She could not speak. But she suddenly understood everything.

The nightmares. The visions. The moments she'd been alone, but felt someone else with her. She felt the bond grow strong as she realized it was there. He had been reaching out to her this whole time in small ways and she had written it off… ignored it as she'd turned her back on the Force again. She'd abandoned him, and now… Atris? How did she play into all of this?

Tien tentatively stepped out onto the bridge between herself and Atton, feeling every lightyear of the distance between them.

_You are protecting me… _she told him, sensing what he needed to hear. The thought was a mere whisper over so great a span. _But you can't die. Promise me you won't die…_

Atton perked up. She sensed his mind open to hers a little wider and she desperately wanted to answer all of the questions flooding to the surface of his mind. She discerned one louder than the others, and she showed him… showed him where she was, and he calmed. He was so relieved, so sated by her presence…

_No. Instead of dying, he was going to fold. He had seen it so many times. He knew what was next. He knew she was saving the big one for last. The one that always seemed to work, even on the most dedicated Jedi, the most stubborn he'd ever had a hand in turning. The strongest. _

Tien nearly cried… she had abandoned him. Atton had needed her so badly, and she hadn't kept herself open to him… hadn't been there for him just because of her own fear and uncertainty. How long…

_Get to the master through the padawan. Damned Jedi Force bonds… _Atton was warning her. She finally understood.

"_I started killing Jedi. A lot of them," he said casually, the noise of the refugee sector making the whole conversation take on a surreal, every-day quality. "People say killing Jedi is hard. It's not, you just have to be smart about it. No blasters, no attacking them directly when you can gun down their allies instead. _

"_There's ways of gassing them, drugging them, making them lose control, torturing them. I was really good at it." Atton sighed, glancing up at Tien, cringing slightly at the expression of disgust on her face. "What's worse," he made himself continue, "is that killing them wasn't the best thing. Making them fall… making them see our side of it, that was the best." _

He must have sensed her realization, because without any warning, he pushed her out so fiercely that it took her breath away. All that was left was a very puzzled Jolee Bindo, staring down at her.

She ignored him, focusing instead on her bond with Atton, trying desperately to get him back.

_You are strong enough, Atton. You are strong. And you know what she's going to do. You can fight it. You're stronger than her— _she pleaded, but he refused to let her back in. He lashed out at her with a terror-laced anger, frustration that she was continuing to try. He didn't want her. She needed to be as far away from him as possible.

_You should have killed her when you had the chance…_

She understood. Atris was using him. She'd known about the bond before they had, trying to use it to find Tien, to find Revan. And he was protecting her by keeping her out.

Tien looked at Jolee. Neither of them had moved in the instant-lifetime that had passed, but tears were now rolling down Tien's cheek as she ran all of the contingencies through her mind.

"What is it?" Jolee asked quietly. She shook her head, coming to only one conclusion.

"We're running out of time," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then we'd better get moving," the old man replied. He gestured toward the temple and she walked past him.

Jedi became Sith, Tien realized, thinking of Atris.

It was a good thing she wasn't a Jedi, Tien thought with a renewed sense of purpose. She clipped her lightsaber to her belt as she climbed the steps to the temple.

* * *

A/N's: 

Thank you so much to Foxfire for the masterful beta and to Alice for her massive support. And to all my readers and reviewers of course. You guys add a lot of light to an otherwise dismal college existence. :)

MicroChips—I'm glad you love crazy Atris. She's a great villain. :) And yeah… I totally feel for Atton… but I like beating him up so much more. Hehehehe. Also, I found out his name is Jaq from the Prima Strategy guide. I don't think I've ever actually seen it in the game, but I think the guide is where most fic writers get it from. It's pretty much fandom canon now, I think.

Lunatic Pandora—I really want to see Atton slam Atris around ala Nihilus/Sion/Traya too… hmmm… :)

Linz—Thanks, hon. :) I'm glad you're enjoying the story and the format. I know sometimes it seems a little thrown together and not so polished, and I do apologize for that… I'm an amateur. I know it. :) And yes, Big Z is with Revan.

Alice—The Yuthura/Vrook meeting just kinda popped into my head one day a while back as a 'what if' sort of thing. I'm so glad I was able to fit it in. I'm glad it worked. :) Thank you for your critique of the voices and POV like with the Sith captain and Mira. That means a lot. I'm glad it's coming through. :)

Sleepy Seed—There is absolutely wrong with sounding like an 8th grade teacher. I actually hope to be one by next August. :) I'm so happy you're enjoying the story and finding it easy and fun to read. I shall do my best to keep you impressed. Thank you. :)

Kristen—Complicated. Sigh. You're tellin' me:) Thanks for reading and, of course, reviewing. Music to my eyes. P.S. Evil is good. Mwahahaha.

Darkgirl—I just realized… 2 chapters and no Mical/Handmaiden stuff. I'm sorry. :) They're going to be pretty important in the next chapter… sorry to make you wait. :wince: And no worries on your request. I think killing her good and proper goes without saying. Or does it? Hmmm… :) Thank you.

MAXIE—Here ya go:)

Mellyna—Yay for Atris hating! I'm having so much fun writing her because… I mean, come on. Was I the only one who _knew_ she was evil the first time I met her on Telos? I'm trying to bring out her full evil!potential. Unfortunately for Atton. :) Thanks for reading.

Snackfiend—Congratulations! You are my 100th review! Mmmm… 'compulsive experimental bent.' Anybody else find experiments to be incredibly frightening? The mental image you gave me with your review just made me shiver. Mad Scientist!Atris standing over Atton with a rusty scalpel… gah. Hope you didn't have any trouble recovering from the exploding head incident. Those can be tricky. :) Thanks for reading.

Guys, I've never written anything that has had this kind of amazing response from readers before, and I just want you all to know how much I appreciate all of your kind words and wonderful feedback and suggestions. You're the best. :) I'll try not to take too long on the next chapter, but I will warn you: I'm not even through my first week of school, and I'm already having issues. My classes are insane hard. But then, I have this bad habit of doing everything _but_ my homework, so who knows? Maybe I'll actually work _faster_ on this now… :)


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Not mine, no cash. Unfortunately. Dude, I could really use it…

* * *

They waited until late afternoon to make their way from the Commercial District to the Industrial Quarter of the Port City. Dustil and Yuthura took the lead, traveling together toward the main offices of GotoTech Industries. Apparently, the new owner had little inclination to lose the name recognition garnered by the previous proprietor.

Something in the back of Dustil's mind twitched as Mira and Bao-Dur veered off the main road toward the back of the facility. He didn't look back at them, but glanced at Yuthura, who nodded, acknowledging the shift in strategy. She lifted her hood over her head tails as they turned the corner.

Dustil took a deep breath and rested his left hand on the holstered, ordinary, non-Jedi blaster on his hip as he stepped onto the entry dais to the foundry. The requisite sentry droid popped out of its niche beside the door and eyed the two visitors in turn.

"E chu'ta," it greeted them in Huttese. Yuthura answered in kind, explaining the purpose for their visit. The droid directed his attention on her before swinging back around, training its optical receptor on Dustil when she gestured to him. He tried not to look surprised. Or uncomfortable. Or paranoid. The droid retracted into its niche and Dustil quirked an eyebrow at Yuthura but she didn't look at him, instead keeping her eyes trained on the door.

It slid open and they stepped through into a white, sterile lobby, light pouring from every wall. A single protocol droid was positioned behind a high reception desk flanked by the only fabric in the small room—two black and red banners with gold writing. Dustil thought it was writing, anyway, but he couldn't read it.

"By stepping through that door you have surrendered your rights as a Republic citizen," Yuthura mumbled. Dustil glanced at her quizzically.

"What?" he asked as they approached the desk.

"The banners," she answered. Dustil nodded and found himself quite unconcerned. He'd seen banners like that in places all over the galaxy. Though most had the courtesy to be posted in Basic…

"Welcome to GotoTech Industries Headquarters, potential investor, I am D9-M9, human-cyborg relations. Unfortunately, our chief executive officer is rarely available for consultation," the reception droid intoned cordially, "but I have been authorized to answer any questions you might have about current GotoTech financial forecasts and stock prospects."

"How about… a tour?" Dustil drawled, crossing his arms.

"I am afraid that will not be possible, Mr. Ban—" Dustil rolled his eyes at the alias Yuthura had given to the sentry. He really needed to learn Huttese.

"Look… 'D9-M9,' was it?" he started, moving closer to the desk.

"Yes, si—"

"Do your employers get many fine businessmen like myself to _actually_ invest in their… activities… without first taking a look at the product they're buying?" Dustil eyed the droid pointedly.

"As a matter of fa—"

"Now, if it's a question of credits, you'll find that we're more than capable of accommodating your employers," Dustil interrupted with a conceited lilt. He produced a datapad from his back pocket and dropped it on the top of the desk. The droid glanced at it surreptitiously, but, being a droid, could not really hide his programmed interest in the credit amount lit up on the tiny computer.

Yuthura sidled up to the side of the counter and slowly rounded its edge, closer to the droid on the other side.

"Your employers _are_ looking for investors, aren't they?" Dustil continued, drawing the continued attention of the protocol droid who was very likely finding his directive subroutines in conflict. No doubt his programmers would have valued both greed and caution, and Dustil could imagine the droid's internal dialogues warring with each other.

Just enough to keep him occupied for a few seconds, anyway, considering that the average protocol droid was far more capable of processing complex sequences than the average human.

Yuthura was on the other side of the desk, hugging the wall just under one of the banners. She glanced up at Dustil with a nod.

"Why, yes sir. GotoTech Industries welc—"

Dustil reached up onto the counter, moving his hand to pick up the datapad, but his fingers veered off course at the last moment. He lightly touched the droid's head and reached out with the Force, feeling the minute movement and charge of the molecules forming the droid's alloy plating. He visualized a single atomic structure and imagined an electron disappearing from it.

He jerked his fingers away at the slight static shock as the droid's plating ionized, disrupting and reversing the currents coursing through the droid like blood in his body. D9-M9's servos quieted before the droid could have even processed what was happening. Dustil focused again and concentrated on the tiny bundles of energy in the unit's processor, closing the primary resistor and fooling the control cluster into shutting itself down.

His actions were subtle. Hopefully, subtle enough to avoid any alarms a _destroyed_ droid might have triggered in a plant run entirely _by_ droids.

"They're in," Yuthura said, stepping closer to the monitors behind the counter.

"Where?" Dustil asked, rounding the desk and settling himself at her side. He watched the monitors, picking out the one to his far left. Two cloaked figures and a rusted assassin droid were making their way into a very large, very empty room.

Yuthura hunched over the computer console, downloading the area schematics. "According to this, they entered through one of the loading bays and onto one of the main factory floors."

Dustil's stomach fluttered. It didn't look like much of a bustling factory.

"Can we get down there from here?"

"I believe so, however…" she waved her hand at the bank of monitors crowding the desk. There were droids everywhere. Most of them were inactive; many older models stationed in alcoves awaiting shipment. But some were stalking the halls, military models armed and shielded. They had been hoping to keep their operation covert until the last possible moment, but it seemed that wouldn't be possible.

"Unless you think you can deactivate them all at once, we may have a fight on our hands," Yuthura continued. Dustil shook his head.

"No… I can't. There's too many…" He could feel the current of the whole building, could feel the electrical life that he knew escaped most Jedi. Could tap into it and disrupt it, as he had with the protocol droid, but here the charge was too thick and those droid-lives too far away to pinpoint.

"You stay here and monitor their progress. I'm going to try and get down to the factory's power plant to set the charges," Dustil ordered, stepping away from the console. "And try to see what you can download from the computer. There might be something useful in there."

He turned away from her and toward the door behind the desk, hearing the lock click open as Yuthura hacked the security door controls in the main computer. Datapad in hand, he stepped through the door and into a facility that actually looked a lot like a starship.

A long corridor stretched out in front of him with two more branching out to each side. He reached out with his senses, trying to feel the presence of any battle droids nearby. Coming up empty for the moment, he turned to his right, making his way toward the turbolift noted on the schematics.

* * *

"Here… we can get in here," Bao-Dur said quietly, motioning to a glimmering force field protecting what appeared to be a supply loading platform. Mira nodded and stepped back, readying her blasters in case the was anyone laying in wait on the other side.

Beside her, the droid loudly cocked his rifle. She frowned. If those HK-50 units were anything like their predecessor, it was a wonder they could call themselves bounty hunters at all. No tact.

Bao-Dur stepped up to the force field and rammed his prosthetic left arm through it. The field flickered and died leaving Bao-Dur to grin. "After you," he whispered with a mock bow. Mira smirked and rolled her eyes, but stepped forward, taking point as the three entered the building through a sort of dark vestibule area that seemed to separate the platforms from the main part of the factory. So far, everything was eerily quiet.

Mira walked slowly toward the center of the great room she found herself in, squinting as her eyes adjusted from the darkness of the platforms. The factory floor was enormous, at least 200 square meters with ceilings about three stories high. And it was bright, every surface white without a speck of dust or darkness in any corner. Mira shivered. It was creepy.

It was also almost completely empty. Except for herself, Bao-Dur, HK, and a bank of computer terminals against the far wall.

"I thought this was supposed to be some big-shot factory…" she mumbled. Bao-Dur shrugged noncommittally, but Mira didn't miss the slight itch of suspicion that floated through his mind and into hers.

"Maybe we're in the wrong place…" he suggested. But that couldn't be, Mira thought. All of the information Vogga had given them—and Dustil and Yuthura had confirmed it—pointed to this building. This factory. This _had_ to be it…

"Observation: There seems to be no one home." HK surveyed the large room, his rifle ever at the ready.

"No kidding," Mira replied, rolling her eyes. She hated that HK was tagging along with them. The droid gave her a lousy, scared feeling and she'd tried to convince Bao-Dur to make him stay with the ship, but her Zabrak companion seemed quite convinced that they were going to need all the help they could get—even if it came in the form of a blood-thirsty droid hell-bent on calling her "Meatbag" at every opportunity.

But she tried not to let him get to her.

Readying her arm launcher, she carefully crossed the room. It was eerie, how empty it was, and Mira refused to be taken by surprise by _anything._ She heard Bao-Dur's footsteps as he followed her from several paces behind, taking his time and surveying the layout of the room for weaknesses or hidden dangers.

She glanced at him, making sure he was covering her back, before turning her attention to the nearest computer terminal. She hacked into the system easily and began to sift through the material for any explanation of where the _factory_ part of this factory was…

She frowned, her frustration growing with each passing minute of finding nothing valuable. "There's nothing here…" she said, sifting through files at the main computer terminal. "No HK units under construction. No factory. Nothing. I don't get it…" Bao-Dur looked at her, puzzled, stepping over toward her and the terminal, as though his hands would yield different information.

"What?" he asked. She stepped aside and let him get at the computer, gesturing him to give it a shot. He shrugged and glanced at the file directory, picking a few at random to peruse. He read for a few moments, showing the patience that Mira had lacked in the research department. She paced behind him, eyeing the door occasionally as though the abandoned foundry was not so lifeless as they thought. Nothing came through the doorway.

"Wait—This isn't possible," Bao-Dur murmured. "Not right under our noses this whole time… right under our _feet_…"

"What?" Mira insisted, ceasing her nervous motion and joining the Zabrak at the terminal. He glanced at her before looking back at the screen, rereading to check again for authenticity.

"It's plausible enough, but I don't believe it. All this time…" he mumbled, still scrolling through the information in the computer.

"_What_," Mira said again, growing deeply impatient. She stood on her toes and rested her chin on Bao-Dur's substantial shoulder, trying to see what was so interesting.

"You're right, there's nothing here. Nothing but maps and access codes and subroutines," he replied. Mira bit her lip.

"Codes? Maps? For… _to_ what?"

"The factory isn't here, but someone sure went to a lot of trouble to make anyone interested enough to look for it _think_ it was here. This… this is the key to the door," Bao Dur said, growing excited. Mira could feel it starting to bubble up within him. Like he was suddenly very sure of something quite important.

"Bao-Dur, what are you talking about?" He turned completely toward her, his facial expression belaying his need for her to understand. He was practically busting at the seams.

"_The_ door. The one we couldn't open. On Telos." She looked at him, completely lost. Bao-Dur smiled suddenly, remembering something. "Sorry… somehow I keep forgetting that you haven't been with us since the beginning," he clarified. Mira raised her eyebrows in question. "There… there was this Telosian military installation that had been taken over by Czerka since the Restoration Project began. Before that, it had been abandoned…"

He sighed, looking down to download the information he'd found into his datapad. "We just… have to go to Telos," he said. Mira grimaced.

"Again?"

Bao-Dur nodded. "Yes. The factory is there. I'm sure of it."

Mira looked around as if a fully functioning factory was going to spring up and save her from going back to Telos. Again. "But… but what about this place? It doesn't matter where the real factory is, does it? I mean, if Vogga thinks it's here and wants us to destroy _this_ building, then…"

Bao-Dur shook his head. "Set the charges."

"But if this isn't the right place—"

"Who's going to care if it's gone? The _droids_? Anyway, Vogga gets what he wants, we get what we want, and we take care of Telos when the Citadel's fuel is on its way."

"Good point. I'll go… set some charges…" Mira sighed, leaving Bao-Dur to continue looking through the computer records. She shook her head, wondering at the logic—or lack thereof—of what was going on. Mira continued talking as she walked. "But if we're destroying this factory and, for all Vogga knows, doing exactly what he wanted us to do… why do we need to go back to Telos? I mean, this is it… mission accomplished, right?"

When Bao-Dur didn't answer her immediately, she turned back to see him still absorbed by the console. "Bao-Dur?" she prodded.

"Hmm?" he grunted. Mira rolled her eyes.

"I said, if we're doing what Vogga wanted, why do we have to go back to Telos?"

Bao-Dur stopped what he was doing and faced her, wincing. She could feel his mind whirring as he tried to come up with a satisfactory answer.

"I just… I have this feeling, okay? It's important," he said, settling for a less firm answer than she knew he'd been hoping for. "And… and if I'm right, then we can find the HK factory for _us_. GO-TO hired some of those assassin droids to find the General… they've been hunting her down since even before Peragus and for some reason, I don't think GO-TO's demise is going to deter them at all. They're probably still tracking us, and I don't really like the idea of being hunted."

Mira quirked an eyebrow. She could certainly relate to _that_ feeling. "How are they tracking us? I haven't seen any homicidal droids around lately. Well, other than our own…"

"The General was using a sonic imprint device adapted from an HK vocabulator she picked up on Peragus as a universal translator. When we asked HK-47 about it, he said the assassin droids were probably using it to track us."

"So why didn't she get rid of it?" the bounty hunter asked. Bao-Dur shrugged.

"She wanted to see if it could work both ways… if we could track _them_ down and stop them at their source using the vocabulator."

"Where is it now?" She asked.

Bao-Dur hesitated, then mumbled something Mira couldn't quite hear.

"Bao-Dur…" she insisted, setting her jaw. His discomfort radiated from him, but he tried to act cool.

"It's in my pack," he sighed. Mira's eyes widened.

"Oh. Well. That's great!" she chirped sarcastically.

Bao-Dur shrugged, taking on a distinct 'don't blame me' expression, but suddenly his face darkened and he furrowed his eyebrows… like he could hear something that he didn't really like.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, but before he could answer, her comlink twittered, startling her.

"_What are you doing?"_ Mira frowned and pulled her comlink from the folds of her outer robe.

"Yuthura?" she asked. They had agreed to maintain communications silence while in the factory in case the airwaves were being monitored. It was supposed to be a droid factory after all… it wouldn't have been unheard of… Her heart dropped into her stomach. "What's wrong?"

"_You must have triggered something,"_ the Twi'lek replied. _"There are battle droids throughout this facility, Mira. They've just activated."_

Mira rolled her eyes, catching Bao-Dur's troubled look as his head rose from his work.

"Of _course_ they have. How many? How far are they from our position?" Mira asked.

The blast door behind her opened. Bao-Dur's widened eyes told her all she needed to know.

"Nevermind," she sighed, drawing her lightsabers as she turned.

Bao-Dur dropped his pack as soon as the blast doors opened and began rifling though it for the cache of ion grenades he knew was in there somewhere.

He looked up to see Mira standing in the middle of the large room waiting for the first three battle droids to approach her. She had both yellow shortsabers drawn and was just touching her armband to activate her personal shield as the droids opened fire, their own shields shimmering around them.

The tech's professional eye took over as he finally felt the round grenades under his fingers deep inside the pack. The battle droids were older military models not unlike the ones he'd often serviced during the war. And not unlike the ones, he remembered, still actively guarding whatever was hidden within that base on Telos.

Mira didn't make a sound as she rolled away from the concentrated fire. She leapt up and began backing toward him, backing away from the droids as though knowing exactly what he was going to do. He took the opportunity, taking advantage of the cover her spinning blades provided and chucked three ion grenades toward the droids in rapid sucession, immediately changing tactics as the explosives were airborne. He pulled his disruptor rifle from the sling across his back and started firing.

The droids' shields were holding.

* * *

"You sent for me, Captain?" Brianna asked the _Firestorm's _commander before she even came to a halt behind him. The Captain turned and the Handmaiden's spine grew cold as he eyed her.

"Yes. You may inform your mistress that we will be arriving at our destination shortly," he said, his gray eyes staring into hers unwaveringly, as if searching… waiting for her to show weakness. She refused to satisfy his suspicions and quelled her guilt. She did not answer to this man. He was beneath her, she needed only to remember that. Brianna owed neither him nor his crew any duty. Or loyalty.

"Thank you, Captain. I shall inform her," she replied, turning to leave as quickly as she had come. Captain Den-Kel's scrutiny, even in so short a time, had served to unnerve her.

"Ah—my lady…" he drawled after she had taken a few hurried steps. Brianna turned carefully, coming to an at-ease position in the middle of the bridge's upper level, nodding her chin slightly in acknowledgement. The Captain smirked.

"You would also do well to inform your mistress that our services will not be available to her within the Telosian star system."

Brianna took the opportunity to smile back at the Captain. Obviously, he was not as well informed as he fancied himself, and she relished the chance to put him in his place, as it were. Atris had never intended to bring the _Firestorm_ into Telosian space. It would have completely collapsed her image as an upstanding member of the Jedi Order. No doubt the Exile had informed Telosian authorities that there was a small enclave at the northern polar region of the planet…

Not to mention the fact that Brianna's own plans relied on a lack of Sith entanglement.

"Of that my mistress is well aware, Captain," she answered. If Den-Kel was surprised at all by her statement, he did not show it, much to Brianna's disappointment. He merely nodded curtly.

"May I ask, then, what your mistress' intentions are once we re-enter normal space?"

"Master Atris is well respected on Telos, and will, of course, be welcome to land in her personal craft. If you would be so kind, however, Captain, as to remain within sublight range of the system, she will certainly call upon you again. She does not intend to remain on Telos long."

"As her loyal servant, my lady, might I inquire as to the purpose of her visit?" Den-Kel asked, his voice laced with false innocence. Brianna's eyes narrowed as the tension that had been building between them over the course of their time together grew thicker.

"You may not, Captain," she answered authoritatively. The Captain raised an eyebrow, but made no argument. "Know only that your loyalty and service will be rewarded should both continue in earnest. Master Atris does not take your generous contribution to her cause for granted."

"Very well, my lady," he smiled graciously, bowing his head toward her in a show of respect. Brianna saw the gesture as the farce it was. "Please reassure our Master Atris that my loyalty and that of my crew, belongs to her."

"Of course, Captain," the Handmaiden replied, nodding in farewell. She turned and made her way, thankfully uninterrupted, off of the bridge and toward her personal quarters. She had not needed the Sith to tell her that they would be arriving within the hour—she had known for days the exact moment the _Firestorm_ would exit hyperspace.

She had a sudden, inexplicable urge to change direction and make her way to the detention block a deck below. Catching sight of the nearest turbolift, she indulged and descended deeper into the belly of the Sith vessel.

The turbolift ride seemed interminable and even as her impatience grew, Brianna berated herself for her lack of control. She was trained to move beyond her fear, beyond her basest emotions and rise above them. True, her training was most useful in battle, but the Handmaiden was growing increasingly aware of the fact that battles were not fought only with force pikes and blasters.

Taking a deep breath, she exited the turbolift and strode the short distance down the main corridor to the detention block. Brianna curtly nodded to the guards on duty and moved swiftly past them to the offshoot halls leading to the cells themselves. Swiping her access card, she suddenly felt a weight lift off her shoulders as the Jedi sat up with a start, watching her expectantly. She let the door slide shut behind her before venturing further into the room.

"Are you alright?" he asked after a few moments of her merely standing there watching him. Brianna sighed and nodded before changing her mind and shaking her head vigorously. The Jedi's brow furrowed.

"I am… uneasy…" she slowly clarified. The Jedi nodded attentively, his face softening.

"So am I," he answered. Brianna smiled very slightly, imagining that he really understood her. That he could feel just the kind of… uneasiness… that she had in her heart. The uncertainty before her was suddenly a tangible, terrible thing that hunted her down and made fear well up within her.

In defying Atris, she would lose the home she had known for so long. Where would she go? What would she do? Would she be able to continue to fight? Continue to fulfill her duties and oaths?

She drifted to the floor of the stark cell, her body unconsciously adopting a lotus position as she tried to center herself. Brianna closed her eyes, wishing for just a moment that even Mical would disappear, leaving her alone to struggle through her insecurities without an audience. Instead, she heard the quiet rifling of his clothes as he stood from the sleeping platform against the wall and approached her.

The Handmaiden opened her eyes to slits and watched the Jedi Disciple mirror her pose and join his efforts to her meditation.

She did not want to break the silence, but Brianna could not achieve the peace she so yearned for without voicing her concerns. She let a moment pass, then let her smallest voice trickle out.

"Atris is Atris no longer, Master Jedi," she whispered. She kept her eyes closed, but heard Mical's sharp intake of breath. "She has more than _allied_ herself with the Sith military forces; she endeavors to _command_ them as the new Dark Lord. We approach Telos, and from there… there will be no going back."

Brianna opened her eyes then, watching Mical's expression grow serious… she imagined the soldier in him weighing tactics and contingencies much as the soldier in her had. He swallowed, then looked very carefully at her, as though trying to crawl into her mind and know what she knew.

He didn't have to. She almost told him that… that she would tell him whatever he wanted to know. Anything she knew was his, but Brianna kept silent, habit overriding desire, her walls still up. Until he asked.

"What is so important about Telos?" Mical's voice was light and almost ironic, as though he _thought_ he'd known the answer to that question, but now felt woefully uninformed. Brianna shook her head.

"I don't know for certain. I've lived there for some time, have explored the planet and found many things that my mistress has valued. But what she now seeks, I do not know."

"She is an historian…" the Jedi stated. Brianna nodded.

"It is her… obsession. She has gathered Sith artifacts, especially, from around the galaxy. Surrounded herself with them." she agreed.

"It is possible that the importance of Telos lies in information of some sort. Something that will help her solidify her power among the Sith," Mical suggested.

"An apt hypothesis," Brianna mused, looking up to see Mical giving her a pointed look. She frowned. What was he thinking?

"We need to find out what she is after," said the Jedi softly, almost placating. Brianna looked away from his drilling stare, shaking her head. It slowly dawned on her what was going through his mind. He wanted to wait, wanted to stay and see what Traya was going to do next… but that was… that was _insane…_

"No! If I am to help you and Atton escape, it must be before we reach Telos. Just after the _Firestorm_ leaves hyperspace, you will have the opportunity to steal a sublight shuttle. You can make it to the Citadel…" she argued. "I… I have _arranged_ it."

His warm fingers curled around hers resting on her knees and she looked up at him. For the first time since he was brought on board, Brianna allowed herself to _really_ look at him. She watched his piercing eyes move from their hands to her face, hidden by the blond hair hanging down over his forehead. She could see the way he strained to hide his anxiety from her as well as his curiosity, saw the two feelings warring within him.

She had never fought him, never sparred with him, never parried a single one of his blows nor driven him to concede a match. But for a reason she could not divine, she felt she knew him more deeply than anyone with whom she had engaged in battle. It was unsettling, but not entirely… unwelcome. Brianna shrugged the uncertainty away, choosing to trust her instincts. They might have been honed in battle, but they were good for other things, as well.

"I… You're right, of course," he said, lowering his gaze with a sigh. "But when we leave… we may never have another opportunity like this again. If she truly has designs on leading the Sith… by escaping, we only prolong the inevitable. She will bring war—or worse—upon the Republic, upon the Jedi, and we will have let it happen when there might have been… something… we could have done…"

Brianna's face softened as he stood, releasing her hands. Mical began to pace slowly around the room, speaking now, it seemed, more to himself than to her. He was right, of course, but—

"Any information you could glean by postponing an escape would be of no use to anyone if you are unable to deliver it," she countered, rising to her feet. Mical turned back to face her, his expression one of puzzlement and surrender. He knew she was right, he simply did not wish to admit it.

"Alright…" he conceded, "But we must learn more if we are to track her down later. Is there anything you can do? Does… does she still trust you?" Mical asked, pausing in his pacing and coming to a rest right in front of her. That was the question, wasn't it? Brianna found her thinking on it far too long for the answer to be what they really needed it to be. Surely her mistress was not blind to her waning loyalty.

"No," she finally answered, really having no more justification than that to give. "But I will do what I can."

"Thank you, milady," the Jedi said, dipping into a shallow bow. Brianna nodded back.

"Brianna," she whispered without thinking. Mical looked at her curiously as the Echani flushed and quickly turned toward the door.

"What?" he asked, making a restrained move to follow her. She stopped.

"My name. It is Brianna."

* * *

"So you see, now, my lord, that our suspicions are well founded. The security breaches, the lapses in surveillance, the deleted files. If given adequate time and resources, I am quite certain we could trace the subterfuge back to her."

Darth Traya eyed Den-Kel warily. He stood at attention in her personal quarters bearing proof of her most trusted servant's betrayal and she could not decide if he should be rewarded or killed, so hot burned her rage.

_Come now, Traya. It is not as though you did not suspect…_ Kreia's lilting taunts echoed in her mind. Atris sneered, turning back to the surveillance recording beginning to replay on her computer console. _It is betrayal that fuels you. Let it feed the power within you._

"Captain, set to work determining the extent of her… disloyalty… and report back to me. Find out what she was planning, but make no moves to alert her of our suspicions and no preparations to deter her," Traya ordered, her voice more whimsical than authoritative.

"My lord?"

Traya caught a glimpse of her hand, her fingers resting on the console. They looked… so old… so powerful, yet so deceptively old. On the screen she watched the little Jedi hesitantly reach out to grasp her Handmaiden's hands as they meditated together and another little piece of what was left of Atris' heart broke.

_Do you see now? Oh, Atris, for one so clever as you, you are also blind. It is your destiny to walk alone in the shadow of treachery, Darth Traya. You have walked the path of the dark side since you watched dispassionately as your friend turned her back on you on Dantooine. _Traya felt the wizened master's presence envelop her as she whispered in her ear. On the screen, the Jedi bowed and her Handmaiden told him her _name_. Disgusting.

_Tell me, Traya, what did you want to do to her? When she chose war over you? I know your heart and the poison within it. It is alright, you can admit it now. You wanted to see her die. 'She should have died at Malachor.' Isn't that right? What would you like to do to your 'servant' now? And what is holding you back?_

"Be _silent_!" Traya hissed, behind her the Captain's footsteps drowned out the amused laughter of Kreia's spectre.

"My _lord—_"

Traya laughed and the footsteps stopped. She straightened and turned, facing the confused Captain Den-Kel.

"My _lord_," she drawled mockingly. Den-Kel watched her nervously and his uncertainty washed over her, tickling her. It was delightful. For a brief moment she ached to insinuate herself into his mind and draw out the fear of her that he had so far kept at bay.

But now was not the time.

Traya smiled. "Do I appear… androgynous… to you, Captain? Do I hide myself beneath a mask and robe or flaunt my _masculinity_ as Revan did?" she sang.

"No. No, my… my lady."

An image of a holding cell appeared in her mind. On the other side of a force cage stood the Exile indecently clad and wielding a slightly rusted vibroblade, her short blonde hair darkened with sweat and sticking to her forehead. One of the fool's memories.

"_Dark Jedi are bad enough, but when a woman falls to the dark side, you better space yourself before they catch you," _he said, the voice rumbling in Traya's throat as though she had said the words herself. They seemed appropriate.

She smiled again, taking a graceful step toward the Captain, still standing his ground.

"Good. You are dismissed, Captain. See to your duties."

"My lady," he bowed, taking his leave of her.

_As you have your own duties to attend to,_ Kreia whispered.

Traya nodded to herself, passing into her inner meditation chamber and allowing the door to close behind her before kneeling opposite the thrumming holocron in the center of the small, warm room. She activated it, a holographic image of Telos prior to Malak's destruction bloomed from the tip of the pyramid.

* * *

A/N's: Well, there ya go. Chapter 16. A double long chapter for a double long wait. Thanks for being so patient, everyone. :) Not to make excuses, but school is literally murderizing me. Sigh

Anyhoo, I had a blast writing this chapter… for as long as it took me. I hope you enjoyed it.

Lunatic Pandora: There will certainly be some comeuppance wrought. Be patience, young padawan. ;-)

Mellyna: Thanks for the luck. I definitely need it. Sorry I made you wait so long for an update. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story.

Snackfiend: Thank you for the lovely compliments. I hope school is going better for you. I know I want to Force Lightning more than one of my professors… ahem… :)

Micro: Ah, the strategy guide. If you get it, just keep in mind that there are actually a few errors in it. I'm serious. Imagine my surprise when the answers in the book wouldn't open the door to the treasure in the Onderon palace. I had to damn well figure it out on my own, dangnabbit. Thanks for the review. It's always a delight hearing from you.

Alice: Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou. :) And the Jaq thing—I hadn't thought of it being like a call sign. I keep forgetting that he was a pilot during the wars, too. I always just see assassin!Atton. Definitely something to think about.

Darkgirl: Thanks so much for your comments on Jolee. I love writing him… it's just so easy! I find myself channeling my grandfather. Same snarky sense of humor. :) We'll get to the Atris smackdown soon enough. I'm with you… it'll be intensely satisfying. But she's got a few more dark deeds to perform before she gets her due. Mwahahahahaha!

Ewanlover: Thank you so much! I know, it's really hard to read a story with pairings that ya don't really dig, and it's immensely touching that you're reading and enjoying this despite the obvious Exile/Attonness. ;-) Thank you.

Sleepy Seed: VBG. :-D You are so kind. I'm really happy you enjoyed the zen-ness of the last chapter and I'm glad it came through that way. I always kinda liked the samurai-zen feel of SW and wanted that to show a bit in the story. I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for the good luck. :)

Dante-Raven: Thank you! I certainly will keep it up. :) Thanks so much for reading.

Kristin: Thanks, I'm glad you liked the ending. Thanks for the good luck, too. :) I'm going to teach social studies in either middle or high school. Doing my student teaching in middle school next semester, but after that… who knows where I go. :)

Adrianna: Hmmm… will Tien get to Atton in time? Will she get to him at all? Hmmm… I dunno… ;-D Thanks for the review, sweetie. I'm glad you're enjoying the tale.

Thanks again, guys. You're the best. Special thanks to Alice and the Three Graces, Padawanmage, and Foxfire. Thanks for putting up with me, guys.


	17. Chapter 17

Okay, kids. Just some quick AN's and then I'll let you get to the reading. :)

First off, I want to apologize for the obscenely long time between posts there. As I've been frequently reminded, the last one was in October, and that just plain sucks. I'm sorry. I finished off the semester really well, but that kinda required some serious busting of ass, so I'm afraid RL just had to take priority. I offer you two whole mega-chapters as a peace offering. Pace yourselves. g

Secondly, as replies to reviewers are, of course, no longer allowed, I'll try to get back to all of you tomorrow at some point individually. It's about 3am and I just gotta hit the hay. Been working on this sucker all day long. :) I love and cherish every single review and it's really important to me to get back to all of you. Thanks again, so much.

That is all.

* * *

Past two more halls, then a right turn. Down three levels into the sub-basement. It wasn't far. It was just a matter of getting there. 

Dustil pocketed his datapad and calmed himself, stretching out with the Force to probe ahead, behind, and to each side of him, just waiting for something or someone to cross his path. But nothing did.

Dustil reached the lift to the sublevels and touched the security pad on the wall beside it, pulling a security tunneller out of his back pocket with his other hand. He pried open the panel, inserting the tunneller and carefully interfacing it with the wiring for the lock's servos. "Come on…" he mumbled, biting his lip as he tinkered with the mechanism.

"Come on… Ha!" With a pop of ozone and a fairly impressive shower of sparks from the protesting panel, the door to the lift slid open and Dustil bounced just a little on the balls of his feet as he hastily replaced the cover on the security keypad and slipped through the door just as it was sliding shut again.

He turned around toward the door as it closed behind him, reflexively moving to push the "down" button, but there wasn't one. Instead, the lift began descending on its own.

"Ok-ay…" Dustil breathed, unzipping his jacket and palming one of his hidden lightsabers. He braced himself in front of the door, waiting for it to open. The lift came to a stop and Dustil crept toward the door, hugging the side of the car as it slid open revealing a darkened corridor.

He stepped out of the lift, hefting his deactivated blue lightsaber in his left hand and creeping into the corridor slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. If everything was going exactly according to plan, Yuthura had cut the power to this level just before the turbolift doors had opened to let him out, meaning he had less than a minute to get through the deactivated security sensors in the hall before backup power kicked in.

He sprinted down the hall, augmenting his speed with the Force, barely sliding in under the vertically closing door as the blinding white lighting panels that comprised the walls started humming back to life.

The security on the lowest level of GotoTech's flagship facility on Sleheyron was not especially tight—Dustil had gotten into plenty of places much harder to get into than this—but he'd also discovered the hard way on several occasions that even if someplace is easy to get into, it might be a little difficult to get _out_. And he would be the first to admit that the last thing they needed was silent alarms calling any assortment of law enforcement, networked droids, or competing crime bosses to the front door as they were trying to make their getaway.

But this was important. And maybe even worth it.

A small part of Dustil felt like Hutt slime for leaving Mira and Bao-Dur out of the loop, but thinking about it, he was perfectly content to let them continue thinking that he'd been undercover in Vogga's entourage waiting to help them with their mission. What would it help if they knew that he'd actually been on Nar Shaddaa for months investigating the disappearance of the droid intelligence the Ithorians had requisitioned for Telos?

Dustil found the mainframe easy enough in the dim room. It was sequestered on one wall away from the various system-directing terminals situated in the middle of the room. As he approached the pedestal bearing a small screen and user interface, the screen illuminated, displaying a command line. He stepped up to the rather archaic-looking keyboard and entered the one piece of valuable information he'd been able to gather from his time with Vogga.

One of his Bothan techs had managed to crack the code being transmitted across Nar Shaddaa, revealing a layer of information buried in the signal, each burst of code preceded by an encrypted keycode.

He entered the code, expecting something to happen on the screen, but nothing did. The green cursor blinked against the black, backlit screen a line below the text he had entered, but that was all.

"Dammit…" Dustil sighed, resisting the urge to kick the pedestal over. That was it… that was all he had, and if it hadn't worked… it was over… He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and leaned on the pedestal trying to think of what to do next. Should he try again? Should he—

"Hello. I am a standard Aratech hologram-generated archetype. I am available in several models, including thin, young, female, and an exciting variety of alien personalities…"

Dustil swung around to see a blue, half-size hologram being cast from an emitter in the ceiling. The man in the image was bald and bearded, his voice lilting with just the right amount of amused arrogance to be the human face of an Exchange crime boss.

He grinned at the hologram. "Okay, Goto… I think we can do some business," he said, turning back to the mainframe and the blinking cursor and pulling a portable drive from his inside jacket pocket.

* * *

Mira glanced back at Bao-Dur only long enough to make sure he was holding his own before running deeper into the fray, each lightsaber held out, extensions of her arms, slashing at the battle droids approaching to each side of her. She yelled, focusing her energy into each offensive blow and resisting the urge to defend herself with her blades which would probably only throw off her rhythm anyway. Mira reached out with the Force, erecting a barrier between herself and the flying blaster bolts all around her.

She could feel the heat of each blast that grazed her shield, but found herself otherwise undeterred. After this was over, she imagined, she'd probably spend a lot of time wondering just when, exactly, she'd become a _Jedi_ for real, but for now, she was just grateful for the boost the Force was giving her here. Her blades whipped around her, biting into the alloy bodies of the droids seemingly of their own volition.

Mira focused so completely, letting go and allowing the Force to flow through her. She wasn't particularly strong… she never had been compared to the others… but now… she suddenly felt like something was awakening within her, helping her to ascend further from the plateau she'd been stuck on for the last few months.

She could _feel _Bao-Dur firing his weapon from the middle of the cavernous and now deafeningly loud room. Mira latched onto him and added his perception to her own. Even when she closed her eyes against the blinding streaks of blaster fire that got a little too close, it seemed, she could still see, guided by another set of eyes.

_Behind you, Mira!_ She heard—and felt—as a little wiggle in the back of her mind. She turned, reaching out with the Force to _push_ her rear attacker away. She'd barely caught sight of the droid before it swiped at her, bringing one of its huge robotic arms horizontally across her chest, slamming into her ribs under her outstretched right arm.

Before she could even register that the machine had resisted her push, she was weightless, the air completely gone from her lungs, as she tensed in anticipation of her impact with either the floor or the nearest wall.

Sure enough, and despite her anticipation, she was not prepared for the force with which her back and head smacked into a solid, vertical-feeling surface. Her vision went white as the back of her head cracked against the wall and, she thought dimly, that she heard some other cracks in the vicinity of her ribs.

Mira's head swam and she felt like she was spinning in a speeder that had lost one of its lateral stabilizers. She slid down the wall and forced her eyes open as she limply wilted to the ground. She couldn't right herself, every ounce of energy sapped out of her, and winced when the side of her head impacted the ground, another burst of white overcoming her vision and coherent thought.

She faded, her eyelids drooping closed. She caught a glimpse of the silver shaft of one of her lightsabers on the floor a meter away from her, but couldn't move to reach it.

Bao-Dur swore as he watched Mira go down, throwing a hopeless glance at HK-47, who appeared to be blithely inflicting damage with his ion rifle and battle cries of "Supplication: Eat ions, inferior models!"

Satisfied that the assassin droid would cover him, at least indirectly, with his indiscriminant rain of fire, Bao-Dur dropped his disruptor rifle and drew his swords, charging toward the battle droid stomping toward Mira.

"Hey!" he yelled. "I'm about a second away from hacking into your control protocols! You better come stop me!" Bao-Dur taunted, for lack of any better material. He threw an ion grenade, too, for good measure, sighing deeply with relief when the large, shielded Mark II finally decided he was the bigger threat and abandoned Mira. Unfortunately, the other two droids were not following, one heading closer to HK and the other stepping over the remains of the one destroyed droid and landing heavily on one of Mira's lightsabers.

"Frack," the Iridonian cursed, backing away from the advancing machinery. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mira begin to move a little and he mentally nudged her, but she barely twitched.

"HK, draw their fire," he shouted and ran toward the battle droid nearest him. He dropped the vibrosword from his left hand, leaving his repulsor arm free to disrupt the droid's shields. They flickered and he slashed with his right vibrosword, letting the ionite edge dig into some exposed wiring at one of its elbow joints.

Sparks flew from the droid and it fired at him with its other appendage, but the shots went wide and Bao-Dur had time to roll out of the way and activate his Arkanian energy shield before swinging back around to slash at it again. He gathered his strength and directed a well-aimed critical strike to the control cluster on the droid's torso, jumping away as a small, hot flame burst from its 'chest.' It got in one more good shot that caught Bao-Dur in the shield before crashing to the ground.

A few meters away, HK propelled another frag grenade toward the battle droid nearest him, the shrapnel finally breaking through the droid's shields and inflicting some damage to its body. Bao-Dur ignored it, running past as it tried to shoot at him, the odd shot hissing as it impacted his shield, but it held. Bao-Dur charged the droid approaching Mira as she lifted her head, her vacant eyes taking a second to register where she was and what was going on. He saw realization dawn on her face and she groped for her missing lightsabers as the battle droid leveled its weapon appendage at her.

Bao-Dur was still too far away. He cringed, yelling for Mira to get down and without thinking, he _willed_ the droid to shut down, visualizing the wires and circuits transmitting information from its nerve center to its blasters and shields. Imagined them shorting out. He reached out his hand in desperation as Mira threw up her arms and tried to squirm away from the droid, swiping at her with one powerful arm and shooting with the other.

And then it stopped, a little wisp of smoke rising from its head, poised to strike but frozen in place. Mira peeked out from under her arms, then scrambled away on her hands and knees, snagging her remaining working shortsaber. She ignited it then threw it, the saber performing a perfect Force-guided arc and slicing through the droid's torso before returning to Mira's hand.

She closed her weapon down and they just looked at each other for a minute, completely oblivious to HK-47's cry of victory as the last battle droid fell into a clanging, smoking heap. Mira stared at him like she didn't know him at all, and for a terrifying second, he thought maybe one of those bangs to the head had damaged her memory or something.

Bao-Dur moved toward her. "Are you alright?" he said softly. Mira just kept looking at him, her forehead scrunched up and her eyes narrow. She pursed her lips and hesitantly shook her head.

"N-no. No, I…" she said distractedly before focusing somewhat, her eyes piercing into his as she made an obvious and concerted effort to peer into his mind. He didn't fight her, used to it… even comforted by it by now. "Bao-_Dur_?" She asked hesitantly as he crouched down beside her.

"Mira?" he asked, his own brow furrowing. She was worrying him. "Are you okay?" he said again. She shook her head, then nodded slowly, swallowing hard and physically trying to clear her head by shaking it out.

"The… um… the charges. Have to set the charges," Mira said. Bao-Dur looked at her carefully.

"Yeah. Yes, I can do that. Just… just stay here, I'll be right back, okay? You… you sure you're alright?" he asked. She nodded again and waved him away, but he didn't want to stand to leave her.

"Admonition: So these knock-offs are the assembly-line models Master Tien spoke of. Observation: How quaint."

Mira's eyes narrowed further, if it was possible. "Knock-offs?" she mouthed, turning her head toward the large bay door they had entered through earlier. Bao-Dur's heart dropped into his stomach and he turned to see HK-47 facing down three heavily-armed HK-50s.

"You've got to be kidding," he and Mira happened to murmur together. Bao-Dur turned back to Mira, a stony expression on his face.

"Stay _here_," he ordered, not giving her time to argue before grabbing his sword from the floor as HK-47 opened fire on his more recently manufactured counterparts. He started running toward them, reactivating his shield and thanking the Force he'd thought to wear his _heavy_ armor today.

"Down!" he heard, and Bao-Dur slid to the floor without his usual hesitation. Something told him to immediately comply, so he did, flinging himself to the ground as Dustil threw his red lightsaber with one hand and let loose a storm of Force lighting from behind him.

The air around Bao-Dur tingled and he was sure that if he had hair, it'd be sticking up from the static electricity. One of the assassin droids admitted defeat with a high-pitched "Systems failing, Master," leading Bao-Dur to idly wonder who exactly the droid's master was, before he rolled to his knees and lobbed a couple of ion grenades in quick succession. HK-47 continued firing ferociously as Dustil caught his lightsaber, which had missed all three targets, and ran closer to the battle.

One of the two remaining droids fizzled a bit as Dustil attacked its circuitry with the Force and Bao-Dur was struck with a quick burst of intense terror as he recognized the tactic as hauntingly similar to what had happened to the droid attacking Mira. For just a second, he allowed himself to wonder if maybe he had done that… that it wasn't just a fluke short-circuit… but pushed it out of his mind before the thought distracted him too much.

Bao-Dur reached the disabled HK-50, letting Dustil and HK-47 worry about the last one still firing at its multiple targets, and slashed hard at it with his vibrosword. This one just warbled uncomfortably as it collapsed with a volley of reflexive bolts from its rifle before falling silent to the ground. He looked up to find the last assassin droid also crumpling under a hail of rifle fire from HK-47 and a far more successful attempt at lightsaber throwing by Dustil.

Bao-Dur took a deep breath and sheathed his sword before walking over to his discarded one on the floor and picking it up. Dustil stood with his hands on his hips, inspecting the damage with a low whistle, then turned to face Bao-Dur and Mira, again crouched together on the ground, this time with Bao-Dur's pack between them as they hastily sifted through it for the remaining charges.

"You guys ready to blow this joint?" Dustil asked. Bao-Dur grinned mirthlessly and Mira rolled her eyes.

"Just have to set the charges. Keep an eye out for more homicidal droids, will you? They're slowing us down," Bao-Dur replied.

Dustil quirked a grin. "No need, my friends. There was a self-destruct program embedded in the mainframe—"

"Mainframe?" Bao-Dur cut him off. Dustil nodded but offered no further explanation.

"Yes," Dustil drawled. "So it might be a good idea to put as much distance between us and this factory in the next 10 minutes."

"Thank you for being so generous with the countdown," Bao-Dur commented, suddenly angry with the human for whatever tidbits of information he was obviously hiding.

"I try," Dustil replied, ignoring the scathing tone of Bao-Dur's voice. Bao-Dur decided to tune him out, turning his attention to Mira instead. She sat gingerly on the ground, seemingly bathed in light as she called on the Force to help her heal some of her wounds. A tendril of her ministrations touched him, too, and he felt a warm joy bubble up inside him, pushing his irritation away.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back.

"I'm sorry about your lightsaber, Mira…" Bao-Dur said quietly, not really knowing what else to say as he helped her up. He hefted her carefully to better grip her around the waist and she smiled tiredly at him, wrapping her fingers around his forearm and draping her other arm over his high shoulders.

"It's okay, Bao-Dur," she said softly. "You can just help me make a new one while you're building yours."

* * *

There was something there that hadn't been there before.

Jaq shrugged it off, pushing the unwelcome feeling to the back of his mind as he watched the now-familiar proceedings from the darkened observation room. She was on the other side of the one-way transparisteel… he knew she couldn't see him, yet she managed to stare unwaveringly into his eyes.

He shivered, the tiny ember of rage that always seemed to smolder in his chest burned just that little bit brighter and hotter, as though someone was blowing on it. That little bit of anger that always kept him alert, always open to the manipulations of the Jedi he hunted grew strong as he stared back at her. Even without speaking, she was wheedling her way into his mind—he knew it. She was lying to him without saying a single word.

But she had. She'd said the words. On the short shuttle trip up from the planet below, the Jedi spy had quietly pled not for her own life, but for his.

And now, he could not get the words out of his mind.

"I know who you are, Lieutenant. I've seen who you'll become. There's hope for you… and so much potential," she'd sighed, trailing off. Jaq had ignored her as best he could, but had finally looked away from the HUD, taking his eyes off of the stars and black in front of him as he piloted the small transport to the _Monolith_ in a high synchronous orbit above Ryloth.

He didn't think she saw him look at her. Her eyes were far away, staring unblinking at a high corner of the bulkhead opposite her.

She was beautiful. Maybe because she looked, at that moment, nothing like a Jedi. No robes, no lightsaber—just tight pants, high boots, and a worn-out nerfhide jacket. Her hands, if he hadn't known better, could have just as easily been held lazily behind her back instead of held there with binders.

Maybe it was because she hadn't looked like a Jedi. Maybe that was why he'd turned on the autopilot and sat down across from her.

"Why did you come here? This is a Sith planet—a stronghold. And you thought you could just walk in undetected?" he'd asked.

She'd smiled back at him, kindly. Not the kind of sneer the high-powered Sith schuttas he managed to spend his time with favored.

"I came here for you, Lieutenant," she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Then she laughed, shyly. Jaq had been confused by that, the self-deprecating snort. "Well, maybe not for you _specifically_… but now that I'm here… I know. I know." She nodded, closing her eyes.

Jaq's eyes narrowed and he felt ready to slap the woman, but he didn't. He couldn't explain why, but something in him wanted more. Something in him had wanted her to elaborate.

So he asked.

"What? What do you know?" The sincere tone of his voice surprised him, if not the Jedi sitting a meter away. She smiled again. That infuriatingly _peaceful_ smile.

"I know the power within you… I felt it even as you approached. I could have escaped you, you know. But the Force… it brought me here for a reason."

Her placid voice suddenly sounded like a screeching Mynoch to Jaq Rand and he'd stood, taking to his feet almost violently. His teeth clenched, he towered over her, daring her to be _peaceful_ when he could kill her so easily…

"Stop talking in riddles, you witch," he said quietly, grating the words out.

"Very well," she had stated simply, staring into his eyes, piercing—just like she was doing now through the transparisteel window. "They are missing," she said. Jaq took a step back. "Aren't they?"

Jaq swallowed, but said nothing.

"She knows, as well as I do. Your _Master _Revan will see your stolen comrades twisted to serve her. And _you_ will not escape her purview for long, Lieutenant."

"I _already_ serve her, lady. In case you hadn't noticed. Unlike you and your precious Jedi Council, Revan _deserves_ our loyalty. She _saved_ us."

"No," she had replied, shaking her head as Jaq felt an inexplicable sense of dread drop into his stomach, weighing him down. "She has damned you, as she has damned us all. If you let her, she will turn you into a weapon, a tool of the dark side. _Her_ tool. And you will be an instrument of the galaxy's destruction."

He watched her from the safety of the observation room, watched her pretend she wasn't where she was. Wasn't about to die.

"Why did you come to Ryloth, Jedi?" The interrogator asked gruffly. He approached the table upon which she lay already under the influence of a powerful muscle relaxant. Her hand flopped uselessly as she made a feeble move to ward him away. The interrogator laughed, plunging the long needle he held into her arm. Her eyelids drooped heavily, but her gaze never strayed from Jaq.

Amazing. He had never seen anyone hold out so long.

That something that hadn't been there before—Jaq wondered if it wasn't guilt. Admiration and guilt and…

"You came for someone," the interrogator asked. "You came to use your Jedi tricks on one of our loyal number. Your traces are all over the personnel files of the garrison headquarters on the surface. Who were you looking for?"

Jaq's eyes widened as a tear slid down her face. She stared at him. Still stared at him.

He knew the answer to that one. She had come for him, and now she was going to die… without telling the bastard with the needles what he wanted to hear. She had been right about one thing—the missing soldiers and assassins… he'd heard the rumors. They were off to nowhere good, and Jaq had a feeling that she knew where that was. And she was protecting him from it.

What had he done? What had he done ever in his miserable life to deserve anyone's protection?

_It's not what you have done—but what you will do. _

She was in his head—but he didn't hate her for it. He was too busy… _feeling_. Suddenly, life was bright around him and he stared at her. Kept staring at her as she smiled. Peacefully.

She gasped, her eyes glazing over in a haze of pain and her mouth opening wide in silent horror. Her back arched off the table as the interrogator's cocktail finally coagulated together into its final, toxic form.

And he felt it. The fear and the pain and he knew she had opened him to it. This was her doing… some twisted Jedi lesson she'd decided he should learn…

Jaq lost his balance, staggering back into the wall behind him, clutching his chest as he felt his—her—heart burst from some unknown pressure. At the same moment, she screamed and he opened his scrunched eyelids only to see Tien writhing on the table then suddenly go limp, her dead eyes still staring at him. His lovely Jedi spy was gone, and in her place laid his beautiful Exile.

His own, translated pain disappeared, but he didn't move. He just watched lamely, waiting for her to do something, to twitch, to blink. Anything. Because she was alive. She had to be.

"No," Atton whispered. "No, this isn't right… this isn't right…"

"_You'd expected something more… physical?"_ Atris wondered, the thoughts echoing in his mind. Atton turned, the observation room suddenly feeling like it was closing in on him. He wanted to look around for a way out, but somehow he knew better. There was nowhere for him to run. So he just stared at Tien's corpse. Let the sight burn itself into his mind.

Finally, staring deeply into the eyes of Tien's imagined body, he let the anger come. It bubbled up in him, that same anger he'd felt as the interrogator had turned toward the observation room's window and grinned at him.

"Another for the tally, Rand. Rather a shame, though. Those eyes… would've been something in Sith Lord yellow, huh?"

"Right… really something…" Atton mumbled. The images of the interrogator and Atris juxtaposed beside the metal table, fingers lazily dancing over the exposed skin of Tien's battered arm. He imagined he could feel the touch, a tickle on his skin making his hairs stand on end. He shivered, looking away from Atris' own Sith-Lord-yellow eyes. They were disgusting, like dingy hollows against the stark paleness of her skin and snow white robes.

Her eyes, more than anything else, scared him. They were just like Revan's. Malak's. It had bothered him then, too… but then, it was just a part of life. The natural order of things. They were just like he'd always imagined Kreia's were, hidden under her hood.

Atton's quiet, burning hatred rested in the pit of his stomach, knotting there and keeping him tied in place, unable to pull himself away from Atris' yellow eyes and her white smile.

"_Shall we start again, Jaq?" _Atris asked. On the table, Tien blinked then her eyes widened as she took a deep breath. Atton closed his eyes, but the vision stayed as though his eyelids were made of cellophane. As Atris stretched her fingers out toward the Watchman's body on the table, lit with blue fire, Atton gritted his teeth and tried to tune out Tien's terrified, painful screams. He'd heard her scream before… for real. Before, it had always been muted and reluctant, but the sound was still fresh… and so accurate.

He tried to remember the weary smiles she'd always had after every battle, after every close call, after every time either—any—of them had just barely made it. A smile to make a scream disappear from memory.

"Hey!" he yelled, stepping closer to the observation window. She didn't seem to hear him, so he banged on it, taking out some frustration at the same time. Atris turned to him, her hands lingering above Tien's body… still 'alive' and breathing raggedly. He tried not to look at her… her skin seared, her hair ashy and burnt… too ugly…

"This isn't gonna work, you know," Atton yelled. "I know this isn't real."

He made himself believe that he said that because he was brave and could face anything she could throw at him for real… outside of this subconscious wherever-the-hell this was. Just like the visions she'd conjured for him out of his own memories, the thoughts she'd pulled out of him, the feelings she'd dug around in and strewn about when she was finished. But really, he would just have rather faced another round in the force cage electro-fest.

Atris looked at him, finally, that sickly sweet smile that he hated on her face.

"_Then we will make it real," _she said. Atton had a split second to furrow his brow in confusion before his vision went bright white and blind.

And then he _felt_ again, the headache he knew he should have came back. The aches and pains in his muscles made his head suddenly very clear, the fog of Atris' vision dissipating. He was real and hot and sweating and he was able to move. He blinked again, experimentally, not that he thought that would prove anything at all. The force shield of his cage was down and he reluctantly reached his hand out to touch where it should have been.

Atton inhaled reflexively, to hold his breath in preparation for the shock of the force field, but the intense pain he felt was not in his outstretched fingers.

He didn't want to look. He tried to breathe again, but his stomach tightened and refused to let him. He didn't want to look. Didn't want to look. Don't look down, Atton. Just don't look down.

"Real enough?" Atris sang into his ear, her breath making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

His legs gave out and as Atton dropped to his knees, he was finally able to pull in some air. It didn't make him feel any better, though. It just made him nauseous, the oxygen mixing with the hot blood creeping up his throat.

_She was crazy. Absolutely insane. He was better off back in his cell. _

"_Tell me you're joking." Atton drawled. "We are not going to cross back into the Peragus facility through the fuel line—that's crazy!" The Jedi glanced over her shoulder, looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. _

"_It's the only way to get to the hangar, Atton. You need to trust me," Parren answered. Atton rolled his eyes as she stepped through the hatch into the disabled ion engine of the _Harbinger.

"_Yeah, sure…" he mumbled. "Easy for you to—"_

_A few paces ahead of him, Tien abruptly dropped to the metal grating separating them from the engine's generators below them. Her small, breathless moan reverberated through the cavernous space. _

"_What is it? What's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked, advancing on her worriedly. Atton couldn't see her face, but he knew she was in pain, her shoulders quaking a bit. He could clearly hear her trying to bring her troubled breathing under control. "Dammit, hold on! It's only a little further. Don't give up on me now."_

"_My hand…" she whispered. "It… feels like it's been dipped in molten carbonite…" _

_Atton couldn't help trying to look over her hunched shoulders and sweaty and mangled hair to try and catch a glimpse of the damage… but there wasn't any. _

"_You look fine. Come on, we need to keep moving."_

"_Kreia… I think she was wounded. Badly," she said as he helped her stand. _

"_Kreia? How do you know?" _

"_There's some kind of… of bond between us. I can't really explain it… But something happened, I think…" Tien looked down at her pristine left hand, shaking her head. "To her hand. And I felt it."_

Maybe if he didn't look down, it wouldn't be so bad—for either of them. Mind over matter. Atton coughed and he stared for the longest time at the tiny puddle of blood spattered on the floor between his hands.

And then, without really meaning to, Atton sat back on his heels and looked down in wonder at the hilt of the short sword hanging in mid air, it seemed. Sticking out of his stomach, low and just left of center. And without really meaning to, he felt Tien falter, even from so far away on wherever-she-was. Did this feel like carbonite, too?

Atris smiled.

"You Force-forsaken schutta," Atton gasped. It really hadn't sounded as masculine and foreboding as he'd intended. "I am going to kill you."

"Ah, but not just yet," she replied, leaning down to pull the sword from Atton's body. He screamed as she slowly drew it out of him, falling back against the back pillar of the deactivated cage. He whimpered, his shaking hands, his numbing fingers probing the bloody hole in his formerly white shirt for the deeper hole in his stomach even as he drew on the Force to try and repair some of the damage.

"Not yet," she repeated. To Atton's eternal surprise, he felt her add her substantial healing power to his own. He took a deep breath, reaching out with the Force and concentrating on his tissues weaving themselves back together. "If you were to try something as _foolish_ as that, I would, of course, have to kill _you_. And is that what you want, my little assassin? It would be unfortunate…" Atris sighed. "If I were to kill you, it would seem Jedi Parren might also be adversely affected."


	18. Chapter 18

Jolee tilted his head slightly, watching Tien examine the massive door at the top of the stairs to the temple. She was lying flat on her stomach on the wet stone landing, her right ear pressed into the ground as she tried to make her line of sight as low as possible.

The old Jedi harrumphed as she squeezed her left eye shut trying to peer through the minute crack under the door. Tien didn't seem to notice.

"The seal isn't airtight. There must be some kind of mechanical catch here… It… it'd be tighter if the mechanism was powered…" she mumbled, putting her fingers up to the seam, trying to feel for airflow.

"Did that big ol' rock under your head tell you that or did you figure it out all by yourself?" Jolee crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. Tien sighed and rose to her knees, staring at him the whole way up.

"You're not helping, Jolee."

"Sure I am," he answered smugly.

Tien rolled her eyes flung her arms up in frustration. "I don't see helping, old man. You are standing there _not_ helping. Staring at me making a fool of myself on the ground, soaking wet and dirty and tired is _not_ helping."

Jolee shrugged and uncrossed his arms, sticking his hand into a pocket and producing a comlink which he proceeded to wave around in front of him. "Helping," he stated. Tien frowned then gave in to a quick little tremor in the Force that told her someone was coming down the path and into the clearing. A couple of bright blue lekku came into view at the tree line followed by a familiar black veil and the gentle glow of a cyan lightsaber.

"When did you do that?" Tien asked, though she wasn't really sure she wanted to hear the answer. Jolee shrugged.

"In the jungle, while you were busy pondering your unfortunate lot in life."

Tien sighed and pulled herself to her feet, taking the moment it would take Mission and Visas to cross the clearing to glance down at herself. The front of her tunic and pants were a slightly darker shade of wet than the rest of her. She swatted at her knees once to try and clear off some of the more concentrated dirt collected there and unconsciously grabbed at her lightsaber as she straightened. It felt good… having it back with her. It felt right.

"Somebody call for a genius?" Mission called breathlessly from halfway up the staircase.

"Yeah, don't let it go to your head, kid," Jolee called back. Tien smiled and shook her head, moving toward the top of the steps to meet their new arrivals.

"I take it you know a thing or two about lock-picking, Mission?" she asked. Mission rolled her eyes.

"Understatement," she sang cheerfully, walking swiftly past Tien to inspect the door. Tien glanced back at Visas cresting the staircase. She shrugged, taking a position beside her mentor.

Mission stopped a meter from the door and just stared at it for a minute before stepping forward and running her hand over the vertical seam running up the center. She stopped abruptly and glanced to the right. Next to Jolee just flanking the door was a box affixed to the stone wall of the temple.

She walked up to it and, seemingly without even having to think, pulled the metal cover off of the box. "I've seen this before…" the girl mumbled, thrusting her hands into the mess of gears and wires.

"What?" Tien asked, moving to watch over her shoulder. Mission shook her head.

"It's weird… We used to come across locks like this all the time… down in the sewers on Taris… old fashioned. Doesn't… well, I guess this kind of thing just doesn't really seem to belong _here_," she shrugged, working the last tumbler into place. The whole temple seemed to rumble as a catch inside the door released. A puff of stale air streamed out as though the old building were sighing and the seam up the middle of the door widened a good half-meter—gaping just wide enough for the group to squeeze through one by one.

"Good job, Mission," Tien said, smiling at her. Mission shrugged and smiled back, then frowned, pulling her blaster from its holster at her waist.

Tien's stomach fluttered uneasily and she found herself reaching for her own weapon.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Mission said quietly, putting Tien's uncertainty into just the right words.

Tien unclipped her lightsaber and held it vertically in front of her, activating it into a pillar of violet light. She turned sideways and slipped, saber-first, into the darkness of the temple, pausing at the entrance just long enough to let her eyes adjust.

"There's something here…" she whispered to herself. She reached out with her senses, barely registering the doorway darkening behind her as Jolee squeezed through the opening. "Something I haven't felt since…" Tien shook her head, banishing the stray thoughts distracting her.

"Brrr…" Jolee shivered, igniting his own green saber to help light the passage. Tien shot him a narrow-eyed glare, to which he shrugged. Tien fought down her own chills—the interior of the temple was warm, yet her insides felt ice cold.

"What is this place?" Visas asked softly, but Tien didn't stop to answer her. Instead, she surged ahead, trusting the others to follow.

"It's a temple—a monument to Exar Kun built by a now extinct race…" Jolee answered softly, activating his own saber and adding its green light to Tien's violet shaft shrinking down the corridor.

"Can… Can I just stay here?" Mission said as Tien's silhouette disappeared around a corner.

Jolee looked at the young Twi'lek carefully. She stood uncomfortably in the light from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest with her hands rubbing over her biceps as though she was trying to warm herself up.

"You know, that might not be a bad idea. Both of you stay here. If we're not back in 30 minutes, head back to the _Hawk_ and get out of here," Jolee replied, not even waiting for a response before heading off after Tien.

"But—" Mission said weakly. Jolee looked back over his shoulder to see Visas Marr hold out her arm to stop Mission from following. The Miraluka nodded to him.

"We will do as you ask, Master Bindo," she said. Jolee frowned, but nodded back, following the Exile deeper into the temple.

Tien rather hoped he would decide to stay behind with Mission and Visas, but the part of her that still saw him as something of a protector was very happy that he was right behind him. She did not like it here, and it felt much better to not be braving it alone.

She actually wished Atton was there with her. Even on Korriban, he'd managed to crack enough well-timed jokes to keep her from jumping out of her skin at every shadow and growling Tuk'ata.

Tien frowned and tentatively reached out for him through their bond, hoping that whatever had been holding him back before was no longer a problem, but instead of touching his warm presence, she felt a hot stab through her stomach and felt him cry out in pain. Tien stifled a scream, frantically clawing at her still-damp tunic with her fingers, dropping her lightsaber and plunging the corridor into pitch darkness.

Through the Force, she clawed at _him_, desperately searching for him through ether as thick and dark as the air around her, but he didn't hear her. Tien took a deep breath, trying to bring her emotions under control as the pain subsided and a green glow turned the corner. She squinted, turning her head away from Jolee's lightsaber.

"What happened?" he demanded, letting his saber-wielding hand drop to his side so it wasn't so bright. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him and Tien realized that her cheeks were damp. She hastily sniffed and ran her hand over her face before swiftly dropping to pick up her lightsaber and turning back the way they'd come.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jolee said. Tien ignored him, the message of what had just happened becoming crystal clear in her mind.

Visas would do it for her. Visas would find whatever was in here that they were meant to find, but Tien damn well couldn't go. Because _she'd_ know…

Jolee grabbed her by the arm and swung her around.

"I can't go on, here, Jolee. You and Visas are going to have to do it," Tien said sternly, pulling her arm out of his surprisingly strong grip.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

"Atton," she replied. "The reason we're running out of time. She has him and she'll know. If I find this thing and he can't hide it from her… we're done. That's it. End of story."

"Who has who?" he asked again, his face contorting into a confused kath-pup squint. Tien rolled her eyes and shook her head in frustration, trying to walk away from him but realizing she had to tell _someone_. If anything, talking about it might help it make a little more sense.

"Atton. Atris has Atton and we're bonded and she's torturing him and… and she wants whatever we're looking for and if I find it… if I find out what it is, then… well… then…"

"Then she doesn't need him anymore. I gather that this Atris—former historian for the Order?" Tien nodded, "Atris has turned to the dark side and thinks that the best way to conquer the Galaxy has something to do with Revan and with you and she's somehow managed to get a hold of… what, your padawan?"

Tien sighed. "Weeell…"

"Your not-exactly-your-padawan and is using him to get to you?"

"That… sounds about right."

"So you're afraid that if you find whatever's in here and Atris decides that's all the information she needs out of this Atton, that she'll kill him and be off after you and Revan without him hindering her progress?"

Tien nodded.

"That's total skrag," Jolee replied without missing a beat.

"I'm sorry?" Tien demanded angrily. How dare he…

"Trust the boy to hold his own and march yourself into the second chamber on the right," he said. "I'll be right behind you."

"But—"

"Tien, do you have faith in him?" Jolee asked. Tien clenched her teeth, steeling herself. She had a bad feeling about where this was going… the old man had always had a special skill at backing her into corners.

"Yes. I do."

"Do you believe he'll do anything to protect you?"

Tien nodded, that very believe flooding through her.

"Then you need to do this for him. If you _don't_ go into that room, she'll know that too. And then what? You think she'll wait around for you to change your mind? She'll kill him anyway. Or worse. And the next thing you know, you're standing on the grand staircase of one of these temples crossing your lovely purple blade with his red one. Believe me, kiddo, that's not something you ever want to face."

She stared at him, remembering a half-told story about his wife and shivered.

"What's here is for you and you alone. Don't mess with the plan… destiny doesn't like it when you cross her," Jolee told her. Tien looked up at him, pleading with him not to make her go even as she realized he was right.

_Stall, Atton, just stall, _Tien sent to Atton. _Please… please, just… just _survive, she added to herself.

* * *

Atton gaped at Atris from the floor of his deactivated force cage, spent and exhausted and hurt and helpless. She was right. He'd done it again. Time after time after time, he was failing her. Tien _was_ going to die. Atton was smart enough to know that _he_ was bound to, probably sooner rather than later, and then what? He'd take Tien with him?

No. That wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't let that happen.

"And what will you do to prevent it, boy? You are _nothing_," she spat.

"_You_ tell _me_. What _will_ I do?" Atton said quietly. He glared at her, daring Atris to answer as he tried to catch his breath. He hated her. He was going to kill her. His eyes darted to Tien's lightsaber on the table by the computer console. He wished he could reach it, could call for it with the Force… but he just didn't have anything left.

_Stall, Atton. Just stall. _

He snorted, wondering fleetingly if he thought that to himself or if it was Tien, angling for a pep talk. Either way, probably good advice.

"You know me. You've crawled around in my head enough. So you tell me," he continued. "You tell me what I'll do to prevent it, oh great _Master_ Atris. What would _Jaq_ do to an upstanding Jedi like yourself?"

"You waste your breath," she sneered. Atton grinned.

"Well, it's my breath to waste," he grunted, pulling himself up against the pillar to sit higher. "You know, I've been thinking… yes, yes, be still your heart, the fool actually does _think_, sometimes…" he paused, glancing up at Atris' face trying to gauge her humor. He quirked an eyebrow at her scowl—nonexistent as always.

Just keep running your mouth off, Atton. You _were _just run through by a sword. You're not exactly in fighting form, at the moment. So keep talking.

Atton glanced down at the sopping bloody mess of his shirt and took a deep breath. It didn't hurt as much anymore. He tried to draw some more on the Force, but felt only the tiniest bit of warmth and strength flow into him.

But he wasn't going to die. Not just yet. He was sure of that now.

He smiled again, broadly and energetically. There was just something about figuring out that he was going to continue living, at least for a little while, that did wonders for his morale.

"You… you wanna hear what I've been thinking?" he asked. Atris' eyes narrowed.

"Be silent," she replied.

"Yeah, thanks for the suggestion, but no thanks. You see, _I_ think I might just have figured out what all this is about. You know… all this quality time we've been spending together."

Atris raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh? And what has your feeble mind concluded?"

"I think I'm a lot more important than I gave myself credit for," Atton announced unapologetically. "I think," he leaned forward intently, "that you might just _need_ me."

"What is it, Jolee?"

Atton frowned, his head whipping around at the sound of Tien's voice right in his ear. He had to have imagined it. He sat still though, and listened, forgetting about Atris and straining to hear…

A strong hand jarred his shoulder and pinned him against the column at his back. Atton hissed in pain at the pressure, his stomach still painfully tender as internal organs continued to heal. And then she was up to her old tricks, pushing herself into his mind and he fought her, throwing up walls as fast as he could.

She burst through them, edging her way into his deepest refuge and he couldn't stop her. He pushed up at her weakly, trying to throw her off of him, away from him… tried to focus on reality, reach out for the lightsaber. So close.

"_This is not good," the old man said, shaking his head as they entered a small, dark room. A single blue light that certainly didn't belong in the old temple cast an unnatural glow on the normally sandy-colored masonry walls. The light blinked at the base of an alien-looking black… thing… on the floor. _

"_Why? What _is_ it?" Tien breathed, hesitantly approaching the artifact…_

Atton's heart sank, but he fought, clawing at Atris' mental probes in a panic. This was it, he knew. This was why Atris needed him… this was what he was for, and he'd served his purpose. He'd failed. He couldn't protect her, and now he was going to betray her and he couldn't stop it.

"Very soon, my little assassin, you will have outlived my _need_ for you," Atris whispered, leeching greedily from his bond with Tien, seeing what he saw and basking in it. "Just be patient."

No. That was not acceptable. A million what-ifs and contingencies ran through Atton's mind and suddenly, his mind just shut off and simple instinct took over. His jaw clenched and he stilled completely, opening his eyes and staring into Atris' face, focusing in on her yellowing irises with an intensity he hoped would burn a smoldering hole right through her head.

His passionate hatred for her threatened to burst him open, so he let it. Let it eat him from the inside out and let the hatred flow right through his arms, his hands, his fingers.

Atton grinned ferally as his hand clenched tightly around Atris' arm. He imagined it was her throat and let the fresh electric power of his anger fuel him. He wasn't even trying to reach for the Force, now, it was just happening, as though a gap had just been bridged. Like he'd finally managed to tap that reserve energy cell. He closed his eyes, closed his mind, and felt Atris recede. He felt her fall back and go on the defensive.

She retreated from his mind angrily, _throwing_ memories at him, making him remember the things he'd done, but for the first time since he'd met _her_, the one that had made him question who he _was_, he really didn't care. In the back of his mind, he saw himself destroy a teenage padawan in front of his master's eyes—ran the kid through with his very favorite tremor sword then wiped the blood off on his black pant leg before stealthing and running, leading the master into the trap he'd set hours ago…

The memory made him powerful. He drew from the energy of the moment Atris had called up as she tried to escape from his mind. Atton had never been as strong as Jaq. Cockier, flightier… _less_… Not focused, as Jaq had been.

What he needed now was that focus. That _strength_. She was still falling back, pulling herself out of him and he followed. This time he didn't stop when they reached the threshold of his own mind—he pushed on. He pushed back and battered down at the walls she hastily tried to build in his path. He pushed through, fought on as through he were slicing his way through a room of Jedi… his tremor sword lithely swimming through one body and into the next, so he cut through Atris' mind as she'd done to him.

He hoped it hurt. He _tried_ to make it hurt. Atton dug deep into her mind, invading and sifting through her thoughts and feelings. He could hear her screaming from far away, shouting at him that he'd be sorry, that he'd pay for this, that she'd make him regret raping her like this. Like she'd done to him. But he didn't care.

He held her gaze, drilling into what she was most trying to hide, letting her anger and his collide, react and become volatile and keep him going. He was thirsty for it, he wasn't about to stop now.

And then Atton did stop.

"_Hypocrite,"_ Kreia spat at him from the recesses of Atris' mind. _"Hypocrite, liar and fool." _She laughed and Atton recoiled, barely able to make out a mental image of the old hag's yellowed teeth parting in a taunting, coy smile. _"I was right about you… even in death, I hold you at my mercy. Even now I see I can awaken that part of you that you most loathe…"_ Atton jolted, removing his white-knuckled hand from Atris' seemingly paralyzed arm as though shocked. He tried to physically slide away, but he couldn't pull his mind from its trench deep in enemy territory.

"_Would you like to see? Is that what you want, murderer? To see that which is too great for you to understand?" _Kreia said, and her blurry form stepped aside to reveal Atris standing beside a computer console, an unfamiliar man—an officer by the looks of it—several paces away, his hands held behind his back in classic Sith officer form… Atton fleetingly imagined himself standing like that more than a time or two… He couldn't hear what they were saying, but crept forward to follow Atris deeper into her chambers as the officer left. She situated herself before a holocron which almost immediately spouted an image of a planet—Telos. The image shifted to reveal a large, black device, its three arms opening to reveal a projector of some sort. It was odd—a hologram of a hologram—as the black projector emitted an image of its own. Like a map.

And then Kreia was gone and Atton was gone and all that was left was the reality of Atris hovering over him, her eyes wide with rage as she finally broke free of the stasis field he had unknowingly trapped her in. Bile rose to Atton's throat as he let Kreia's words sink in, actually allowing her judgment to take root in him, despite the fact that he was sure he must have hallucinated the whole thing. He felt sick, but didn't regret what he'd done or what had driven him to do it. He felt awakened, in a way, energized.

He felt like he'd dipped his toe in the dark side and it wasn't all as horrible as the Jedi made it out to be. But Atton thought better of it, an unbidden image of Tien's stern and hurt face sobering him.

He steeled himself, intent on beating her to the next attack. He really hadn't been trying to hurt her, but he didn't bother to stop himself either. In fact, it was somehow a perverse turn-on, watching her fly across the room and slam into the opposite wall. She had been open—distracted—and finally, Atris had been unprepared for his offensive. Atton sprang to his feet, rolling across the floor, snatching up Tien's lightsaber and igniting the silver blade as Atris rose, lighting her own crimson saber.

Atton struck, hoping to catch her before she could recover from his last attack, but he was too late or she was too fast. She caught his lateral cut and spun her blade over his, breaking the crackling lock of their lighstabers.

She was laughing. Atton gritted his teeth, the anger still there and so hot, and wheeled back, twisting out of the way of her clumsy vertical hack, ignoring the twinge of pain in his stomach as his fragile wound reopened. The blood trickling toward his waistband was just more fuel for the fire. He yelled, furiously swiping at his opponent with one arm of the double blade before sweeping back and rotating the weapon so that the other arm cut up and under Atris' block.

Atris _pushed_ at him, knocking Atton off his feet for a second before he was able to jump back up, flipping over her to land at her back. She spun in time to block a well-aimed thrust, redirecting the blow wide and opening her stance. Atton deactivated his blade, throwing off Atris' balance, and reactivated it above his head. He twirled it with both hands, bringing it down toward her exposed chest without realizing how open he had left himself.

She reached out her saber-less hand, shooting electricity out at him. Atton stumbled, barely keeping the presence of mind to hang onto his weapon as he curled up against the searing pain. The hilt of his saber grew hot, the metal absorbing the heat of Atris' bursts of coronal fire and he finally dropped it, letting the closed-down lightsaber hit the floor with a tinny clank as he reached his now empty hands up to shield himself, erecting a curtain of the Force between him and Atris and letting loose a _wave_ that succeeded in flooring her.

Atton breathed hard, fighting against the tremors and spasms wracking his body, and forced himself to move, something shiny catching his attention on the floor by the force cage. He clamored across the ground frantically, catching the pointed blade of the short sword still coated with his blood with his fingertips. The edge cut open his palm as he closed his hand around it and pulled it to him, screeching and clattering as he slid it across the floor and rested the grip in his bloody hand. He didn't feel it.

He imagined Tien's body lying on the interrogator's table in his vision. He saw her stagger back to the _Hawk_ and fall, bloody and bruised into the copilot's seat after letting Atris live. Barely heard her ask him quietly to set a course for Malachor before turning her head so he wouldn't see her cry. He hated Atris for that… for some reason, hated her more for that than for anything she'd done to him since.

He imagined Tien telling him that it was okay—that she forgave him for having gotten so angry. That she understood.

And Atton twisted onto his back without thinking, feeling Atris within reach and believing that he finally had the upper hand. He _deserved_ to kill her. He thrust blindly, blithely ignoring the sound of a constrained, surprised yelp-scream that was quickly masked by the loud hum of a lightsaber slicing clean through the hilt of Atton's sword and the tips of his awkwardly positioned middle and forefingers.

He gasped, then rolled away, dropping the worthless grip on the floor. Atton reached his still-intact hand out and effortlessly called Tien's lightsaber to it, igniting it and rolling up onto his knees to block Atris' next blow only to see her drop to her own knees, her yellow eyes wide with surprise.

She lurched forward, her red saber closing down and dropping from slack fingers. Her arms dropped to her sides and she lolled, head-first onto the ground.

Atton just stared at her prone body, feeling profoundly robbed. He tentatively stretched out with the Force, both disappointed and relieved to realize that she was still alive. He sat there for what seemed like an eternity, the silver, humming blade of Tien's old weapon thrumming in his mangled hand—which he had yet to fully notice—the grip slick with blood. And he stared at her, motionless, until something blocked his view.

He looked at Mical who knelt level with Atton. The Disciple gripped Atton's shoulder and gently pulled him to his feet, politely ignoring Atton's jerk of surprise at the touch. He reached over to take the sticky saber hilt out of Atton's hands, but stopped fast as Atton slowly pulled his thumb off the switch, deactivating the blade, and pulled it quickly out of Mical's reach. He tucked the metal shaft into his belt at the small of his back and silently shook his head.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Mical asked lightly, tilting his head in the direction of the open door. The Handmaiden stood there, her forcepike strapped across her back and a concussion rifle in her hands, still pointed in Atris' general direction, an unreadable expression on her face.

Atton nodded and Mical stepped away and over Atris' body. Atton hesitated, his mind reeling. He frowned, reaching around his back again for the lightsaber he had foolishly put away before he was finished with it.

"Atton," Mical said, stopping and turning to face him. Atton refused to look up.

"What?" he said darkly, drawing the saber and igniting it horizontally with one hand.

"It's time to go, Atton, she could wake up soon…"

"No," Atton said. "She won't."

"Don't do this, Atton. Don't become her," Mical answered. Atton shook his head, finally looking at Mical. He didn't get it. He didn't understand…

"Don't get in my way. I have to kill her. You don't understand," Atton stated.

"No… maybe I don't, but this isn't the way, Atton. Not like this."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not a Sith. You're not a murderer."

"I was. I am."

"You're not. Not anymore," Mical replied. Atton shook his head and glanced longingly at Atris' body before disengaging the saber, the sudden hum-less silence becoming so oppressive that Atton tucked the hilt back into his belt and itched only to leave.

"This isn't over," he said.

"No. Especially considering we've got a long way to go before we're free," Mical answered. Both men looked to the Handmaiden beside the door. She nodded curtly.

"Follow me."


	19. Chapter 19

_I know it's not much… but just to prove I haven't completely fallen off the face of the Earth… Needless to say, RL's kicking my ass… God forbid, I have graduated college and immediately found myself a job! Even at the end of the school year! But alas, the last day of school is fast approaching, and you'll all soon be sick of me. Much easier to post story chapters when there aren't any papers to grade. _

_Thanks for being so patient. :)_

_

* * *

_

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, creeping carefully into the cockpit as she had done over and over in the past few hours. This was the first time she had said anything, though.

Bao-Dur took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something, but his mind drew a blank. He shook his head and sighed, glancing at the HUD and making a small calculation adjustment to their hyperspace course. "We'll be in-system soon. You should start getting the gear together," he finally said.

"That's not what I asked," Mira all but whispered, as if the softer she spoke, the less chance there would be of upsetting him. As if there was something to be upset about…

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said flatly without looking back at her. She moved a little deeper into the cockpit and perched herself against the bulkhead beside him, her hands folding demurely in her lap.

"You haven't said anything," she said. He didn't answer and she didn't press it. Mira just sat there next to him glancing from him to the lit control panels to the course and status displays and back to him. Bao-Dur tried to tune it out, but his mind wouldn't shut off. She'd succeeded in what she'd set out to do, he imagined, knowing that she was perfectly prepared to sit there waiting until well after they'd landed on Citadel.

He couldn't help himself from smirking, thinking that she looked so harmless just sitting there.

"What is there to say?" Bao-Dur asked, giving in. He could feel her buzzing around in his mind, anyway. Maybe she'd end up just picking his feelings out of his head and maybe she wouldn't. But either way… well, he'd promised he wouldn't shut her out, hadn't he?

"You don't want it."

That surprised him. How she could be so right and so wrong with the same simple statement. And so accurate. And so far off. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ it… couldn't she see that?

He shook his head and swiveled the pilot's seat toward her a little, finally abandoning the pretense that he'd needed to supervise the auto-pilot. Bao-Dur's mind roiled out of control, sibilant thoughts… echoes of everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to keep to himself, every confession he wanted to make and every regret he'd ever wanted to take back. They warred in him for attention, scrambled to be voiced. He squelched them viciously, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Mira… look, I… _appreciate_ what…" he sighed and looked at her, carefully. Mira met his eyes head-on, and he stared into hers for what seemed like forever. In his mind, all of the things he wanted—didn't want to say rushed up again and he imagined all of those thoughts as tangible threads stretching out between them, the memories that defined him, held him up and held him back.

And Bao-Dur could _feel_ her staring straight through him, her gaze softening with every thread and he could only watch her and imagine which of those threads was turning her face red and hot with… grief? Pain?

"No, no… Mira…" Bao-Dur shook his head, overcome with guilt and frantically trying to stop whatever broadcast he'd started to make over… what? The Force? That was why… just another reason why… He held his hand out to her and pried her clasped fingers apart. He stood up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of the way of her few, much-resisted tears. "I'm so sorry…"

Mira frowned, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry you saw… what _did_ you see?" he asked, but he had a good idea. The images never went away… the feelings. The anger and hate that had so driven him now only added to his regret. "Never mind… don't answer that. But do you understand? Mira, I… I don't _deserve_ this. I don't deserve what… what you have. After everything I've done and all the reasons behind what I've done, you have to understand. That I…"

"You're as bad as she is…" Mira said, her voice suddenly strong. She gritted her teeth.

"What?" Bao-Dur asked, stunned. He stepped back, away from her.

"You and your Exile, as bad as each other. Let it _go_ Bao-Dur," Mira snapped. Bao-Dur snorted. Let it go. Right. Easy for her to say.

"And what do you know about what you're asking me to do? What you're asking me to 'let go' of? What do you know about it, Mira?" Bao-Dur answered, his voice low and hollow.

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not fair. None of it is fair. Doesn't change the fact that what's past is past and I can't go back and change it, does it? But I can try to make up for it now… I can keep trying to make up for it…" he said, shaking his head and turning away from her to stare at the short range sensor display. Anywhere but at her…

"I'm not going to ask you, because when you're ready to tell me what happened, you will. And no, you can't go back. But… by… Bao-Dur, by… _denying_… the Force, you're not denying _yourself_, you're denying everything you're trying to do. You don't think you could do more? You don't think you could _be_ more and still serve out this insane punishment you've given yourself?" Mira said forcefully, as though trying to physically force her point into his head.

He glanced up at her, squinting in confusion. Mira smirked.

"You look so surprised. What did I say?" she asked.

"Well, I guess I expected you to try and talk me out of it. The insane punishment thing."

"What, and ignore its value as a bargaining chip?" Mira smiled. "But I think we understand each other, right?" she continued. Mira crouched down next to him, reaching out her hand to his chin and gently turning his head to face her.

"Understand each other…" Bao-Dur murmured, staring into her eyes. The threads were back, tying them together and winching them closer and closer.

"Yeah," Mira breathed, tilting her head up to meet Bao-Dur as he kissed her.

* * *

Tien glanced at the passage, unabashedly creeping toward it to poke her lightsaber into the room before slowly entering it herself, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness as silent sparks of energy flitted across her path.

Tien heard a nose behind her and instinctively turned, only to see the outline of greenish light from the doorway. She looked away, still rather sure there was something there that she was missing.

"Did you hear something?" she asked, her attention and senses still tuned toward her imagined noise. He didn't answer her and she realized he was no longer there.

"Jolee?" she shouted into the dark chamber.

"_General," she heard behind her. She spun around toward the familiar voice to see Bao-Dur, replete in his rather unkempt Republic non-com uniform. His repulsor arm was gone; the real, live arm he'd lost was in its place. She suddenly became aware of a sea of other uniformed men and women all around them: the injured being cared for by an over-stretched medical staff, assistants shuttling datapads and readouts from one mobile shelter to another, troops running formation drills. _

"_The Mandalorians don't seem to be deterred by their superstitions anymore, General. They're landing in droves on the other side of the Southern Mountains," Bao-Dur continued. _

_Something clicked into place and the General she used to be took over, immersing her in the illusion as if it was real. Tien found herself watching the scene through her own eyes, curiously detached. A tingle in the Force convinced her there was something here that she needed to see. _

_She nodded, motioning the Zabrak tech officer to walk with her to the command unit. They marched in silence until ducking into the domed tent filled with softly-talking sentients with headsets and computer displays. She led the technician to her own workstation in a quiet corner. The surface of the table she'd commandeered was covered with datapads which she sifted through, tossing them aside one by one until she found the pad she'd been looking for. _

_She grimly skimmed its contents, refreshing her memory as to the basic mechanics of the weapon's schematics, wondering briefly why Revan would order its design unless she'd had the intention of using it. She handed the pad to Bao-Dur, who took it and thumb-scrolled through the first few familiar lines before looking back at her, his eyes wide. _

"_The Mandalorian forces are building. Malachor V is no longer the stronghold for us that it was. We're outnumbered already ten-to-one and the odds are only getting worse. If this battle happens," she lowered her voice, "we won't just lose. Everyone here will be obliterated, along with the Republic's hope for stopping their advance toward the Core."_

"If_ the battle happens? Ma'am, with all due respect, Revan's orders—" the Zabrak said. Parren raised her hand to cut him off, just not wanting to hear anything more about Revan and her infallible, infernal…_

"_Revan's orders be damned," she mumbled. _

"_General?" Bao-Dur asked. She shook her head, then nodded toward the datapad in his hand. _

"_You designed it," Tien said. "Now, can you build it?"_

_Bao-Dur's fingers twitched. She felt a quiet wave from him of something between grief, satisfaction, and thrill lapping at her toes._

"_I can," he said without hesitation, his voice dark and focused. _

"_You are fast running out of time, Liutenant."_

"_I'll get my crew on it immediately, General," he replied, pausing in his exit only long enough to wait for a dismissal, which she didn't give. _

"_No," she said. He looked at her questioningly. "Can _you_ build it?" she inquired pointedly. "You know Revan's orders as well as I do. As well as your team does." _This must not get back to Revan_, she didn't say, but she knew he understood. _

_He swallowed hard, setting his chin. "I can," he repeated. Parren nodded. _

"_Very well," she said. "Dismissed."_

_Bao-Dur of Iridonia saluted smartly and exited the command unit, leaving the General alone with her thoughts. _

This is wrong_, the Jedi in her chided. _

No_, the General answered. _Revan is

_She believed it now with unequivocal certainty. Revan and Malak were no longer just dancing with the dark side—they were immersed in it, as surely as she was starting a dance of her own by issuing that order to Bao-Dur. By issuing the thousands of orders she had over the course of this war… _

The chamber was oppressively dark, the blackness hanging in the space thickly, so that Tien felt more like she was swimming than walking. She'd shut down her lightsaber at some point, unknowingly as the vision had sucked her in entirely. Was this what she was in here to find? Was this just one more internal quest, like the cave on Korriban? Some other twisted test?

"Test? Not quite."

Tien spun around to find herself on the gleaming bridge of the _Ravager_, Revan standing beside her, looking just like she had in the dream she'd had on the way to Taris. Malak stood beside her, frozen in what looked like mid-word, his eyes furious about some unknown transgression. The other officers on the bridge also stood silent and still, held in awkward positions of half-completed movements. It was and eerie sight, like they were standing in the middle of a holo-still.

"It's about time," Revan said, her hood slightly shrouding her eyes. She pulled the hood back and stared at Tien so intently that the Exile shuddered involuntarily.

"So sorry to keep you waiting," Tien answered, suspiciously hefting her lightsaber hilt as she cautiously circled the other woman. "Though, she continued, "I was under the impression tht I was no longer under your command."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Tien realized with sickening certainty where and when she was. The scene before her suddenly came to life more quickly than she could have anticipated, and before she could try to run, to get away from the memory that hounded her so relentlessly, Malak was upon her.

"_Traitor! A simple order," Revan snarled, the now-Revan that had just been speaking with Tien replaced by the Revan she remembered. The almost-Sith from the War. _

_Tien could not answer, clawing at her neck as Malak held her aloft with the Force. Her feet kicked helplessly in the air. _

_Tien panicked. She couldn't breathe, couldn't fight back. The Force, her only defense, her only true ally had… was gone. Disappeared. Had left a tortuous, soul-eating… hole that seemed to swallow her so much more completely than the unconsciousness now threatening her ever could. _

_This was so much easier. Dying was so much easier than going back to… to that. _

"_A simple order, General. Malachor V was to be preserved at all costs! And you… your weakness has cost…" Tien could faintly hear footsteps approaching from very far away. "Well," Revan said, "It has cost you your life, at any rate."_

"_Do you not feel it, Revan?" Malak said calmly. Tien felt her body fold in on itself as she numbly dropped to the deck plating of the bridge. "Her life, the Force… have already been lost to her. Do you not feel the emptiness? The wound?"_

From across the bridge, Tien watched Revan crouch down beside her own unconscious body, witnessing what she had missed in reality.

"_I do…" Revan answered, smiling. She knelt, tenderly brushing a bit of hair away from Tien's forehead in a rare show of the friendship they had once shared. "I don't want to kill her, Malak," Revan whispered. "But what she had done… our plans are in ruins, now… Malachor was the key, and now it's lost."_

"_We will find another way, Revan."_

"When you ordered the Mass Shadow Generator detonated, destroying Malachor, you destroyed the very careful plans I had been laying since discovering the Academy of the Ancient Sith within its depths. We were forced to seek the Ancient Ones elsewhere," Now-Revan said, sidling up beside her as the images on the bridge paused.

"And so you left. That's why you disappeared, took off to the rim territories without so much as a word to the Council or anyone else. You were searching for another site like Malachor V," Tien supplied, the picture of the past starting to finally become more clear.

The motives neither she nor the Jedi had understood, the reasons behind the Jedi Civil War… hinged on this moment. On her destroying Malachor V. Despite herself, Tien felt excitement swell in her chest at the discoveries before her. Despite herself, she suddenly felt both very important and very repulsed… like she was discovering that she was just as responsible for the Jedi Civil War as Revan.

"Responsible, no. A part of it, a catalyst… yes. I suppose that would be true. Your role in this moment in history was pivotal, but no more or less then than in this moment. Now," said Revan, stepping toward her frozen, younger self. She shook her head sadly. "I wish this was real… I wish I wasn't just a figment of your imagination, programming and the Force… I wish I could talk to her… to me…" she laughed mirthlessly. "Or kill me. That would probably work a little better knowing how stubborn I am."

Tien took a deep breath, looking around and trying to remember more of what had happened. She delved into the memories she'd so long fought to suppress, picking at them with a detatched eye, like an historian exploring the records of a long-dead civilization.

"But Malachor V wasn't completely destroyed," Tien mused. "The Academy survived, I was just there…"

"The Academy was rebuilt, by one I think you know as my former teacher."

"Kreia. You told her…"

"I told her about Malachor, yes. Even in going to find the Ancient Sith on the Rim, I knew we would need a foothold here, closer to the core. A sanctuary, where our newest recruits could be trained. Broken and trained into the service of the Sith. She began to rebuild in our absence."

"You were already Sith by the end of the Mandalorian War, then. Everyone thinks that it happened after you left. That you just… came back changed," Tien said. Revan shook her head.

"Well onto the dark path, but not Sith. Not in the truest sense of the term. Consider that we went looking for the Ancient Sith. The True Sith, and the title begins to take on a more specific meaning. The cult of the Sith, the religion, if you will, is not the same as the dark side."

Tien smirked. "How subtle," she replied dryly.

"No. Not really. Not when you stop to think about it. It's not a _subtle_ difference at all," Revan said, quirking her eyebrow. "And the finer points of my turning having been explored, it's now time to move ever-so-subtley on."

Tien frowned, then it dawned on her that they were not actually on the bridge of Revan's old flagship. "What is this?" she asked. Revan smiled.

"_This_ is the Ancient Sith. I… what you see here, everything, is part of an interface designed by the Ancient Sith with Rakatan technology tens of millennia ago. It feeds on the Force, using it as a conduit for internalized communication with the user for a far more immersive experience than any Builder technology could accomplish on its own. The key, is the integration of this," Revan held out her hand, displaying a small-scale representation of a gold and silver pyramidal holocron.

"The two-way communication between the device and your mind also allows for impeccable security." Revan winked. "Why bother with a security code or a bioscan if you can simply pluck the identity of the user right out of their neural pathways… given the right state of mind, of course? Little trick I learned from a computer on Kashyyyk."

Then she and the _Ravager's _bridge faded in and out of sight. Staticky, like the image of a malfunctioning holo-projector. When she reappered, she was holo-blue and translucent, her eyes staring straight through Tien, nothing alive in them at all. The image lit up the whole, suffocatingly dark temple chamber.

"Mental scan complete,"the Revan-image said, the voice jerky and computerized. "Identity: Tien Parren confirmed. Authorizing unrestricted terminal interface. Retrieving encrypted Star Map data."

The holographic Revan continued to lifelessly stare into the black space behind Tien, ignoring the grating and groaning of the black device deeper in the room. It opened, the arms spanning out with a hiss as a repulsor orb drifted out of the center. It clanked loudly and the orb lit up, becoming a focus for a very large, very detailed projection. Of the galaxy.

Tien squinted at it, walking briskly toward the device. She didn't take her eyes off of it as she clipped her lightsaber to her belt and fumbled for her datapad. Behind her, the door to the chamber slid open, but she wasn't concerned. Rather, her attention now was on interpreting the data. It was familiar to her… something from the records that Carth had given her.

"This is not good," Jolee said softly, coming to a stop beside her. He peered over Tien's shoulder, gauging her progress downloading the information from the map.

"Why? What is it?" Tien asked, but felt like she already knew the answer. "A star map, right? Like the ones that led you to the Star Forge five years ago…"

"Yes," Jolee sighed. "Though, by the Force, I thought we were done with all this nonsense."

"Well, all the others just led to the Star Forge, and that was destroyed, so what's the…"

"Problem?" The old Jedi interrupted. Tien looked up to see him shake his head and stick his arm into the projection of the galaxy. "Before you go and what ever cross references you were no doubt going to try… this here… right _here_—" he pointed to a point of light on one of the criss-crossing flight paths along the Rim "—is the problem. None of the maps we found were complete. None of them… but we had just _enough_ to find Malak. Even with that information, there were still blank spots."

"Which aren't blank any more?" Tien caught on.

"Aye," Jolee said. "Here… here's Kashyyyk… Tatooine, Dantooine… the Unkown World and the Star Foge. But this system… there's something important noted here, and I don't recognize it."

"Another Star Forge, maybe?"

Jolee shrugged. "I don't know. But I'll bet you credits to caffa beans, it's where you'll find something of that Ancient Sith threat of yours. Or… at least someone who can tell you where to go next."

Tien smirked. "Shame she couldn't just leave me a note with a big fat arrow on it saying "go here."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" Jolee said as the black projector closed down.

* * *

In the cockpit of the _Ebon Hawk_, T3-M4's sensors whirred. He was receiving a close-range signal, that wasn't coming from any of his companions' comlinks… but from one of the temples nearby. As his processors worked on decrypting the signal, the galaxy map blinked on.

T3 warbled his confusion, and rolled toward the massive primary navigation computer only to be stopped mid-way by a binary communication from the ship itself telling him that the comm system had been activated.

Curious.

He changed direction and rolled instead toward the security room and the main comm interface. It was blinking. T3 jacked in to retrieve the incoming message. It was audio only.

The decryption now complete, he accessed the signal that he had received via his own sensors a moment before.

His orders.

UNLOCK NAVIGATION CONTROLS.

But how was he to do that? The controls were voice-locked. And T3-M4 had no voice.

The comm blinked again. T3 accessed the audio message file.

"_Unlock _Ebon Hawk_ navicomputer. Authorization Tyril: Omega-two-two-nine-beta."_

On a hunch, T3 accessed the navicomputer. The history of the _Ebon Hawk_ and all of her past destinations were open. The astromech droid disconnected himself from the ship's mainframe and puttered back into the cockpit. On the wall, the galaxy map twinkled with new destinations… one in particular… a little tan circle on a criss-crossing flight path near the Rim… was highlighted, its vital statistics scrolling along the bottom of the screen.


End file.
